Summer of My German Warlock
by Dusk Dreaming
Summary: The year was 1899, and Albus Dumbledore was looking for love in all the wrong places... Some AU.
1. A Letter

_July 1, 1899_

_Dear Elphias,_

_It was good to receive your last owl! I eagerly anticipate each of your letters; they dispel the monotony of life here in Godric's Hollow, where nothing ever seems to happen. Although I no longer enjoy the freedom to travel, reading the account of your journey is surely the next best thing. I almost feel as though I am travelling with you after all._

_The sketchings you enclosed of the singular cranial features of the Chinese Fireball were of great interest to me. In particular, I was struck by the resemblance of the Fireball's snout to that of the Swedish Short-snout. I cannot help but feel that there is some connection there. If only research wizards would apply themselves to the study of relationships between extant species of dragon. There were once many hundreds of dragon species in the world, but most of them have vanished due in the main part, regrettably, to the short-sightedness and destructiveness of Wizardkind. _

_When I was a boy, my father would take me and my brother down to the beach at Dover and we would hunt for dragon fossils in the great salt cliffs. The cliffs of that country are a treasure trove for an inquiring mind. I am sure there are secrets waiting to be discovered all about us. If only I still had the luxury... but no, I mustn't indulge myself in selfish thoughts._

_Life continues in Godric's Hollow as always. My family are well, and thank you for asking; you are always so conscientious. Aberforth seems to be coping with Mother's death by becoming more sullen, withdrawn and insolent than ever. As for Ariana, it is difficult to say whether she even realises that Mother is gone. This is a sad, old, abandoned house: misery hangs over it like a shroud, sorrow has built its nest among the eaves, laughter and joy have shrivelled and withered away from years of neglect. No one speaks except in hushed tones, and a thick, oppressive silence blankets the whole place... Even before my parents died this was not a happy household... one of the reasons I was so glad to be at school with you... but listen to me, I am becoming a bitter old man before my time. I mustn't burden you with my troubles!_

_On those rare occasions on which I do get some time to myself, I lock myself in the study and work on my research. I still receive correspondence from friends, colleagues and learned people. At present I am working on an article for _Ars Arcanum _on the refinement of dragonsblood. I have managed to earn a regular, though modest, income from my letters, which is important to me as I now have two other mouths to feed. Of course my parents left a substantial amount of money in their will, but it will not last forever and I must think of the future. The responsibility lies with me now. I was never very good with money, and I have spent the past few days reading through wills and testaments and contracts and other headache-inducing documents... it is my responsibility now._

_The neighbours mostly keep to themselves. Had you met my mother, you would well understand why. She made it clear that privacy was very important to our family, which was probably for the best, all things considered. There is one neighbour who is friendly, Ms Bathilda Bagshot. You must have heard of her? She is a well-respected historian. She has been the source of much kindness and understanding in this difficult time._

_That reminds me. Bathilda says that tomorrow her great-nephew Gellert will be arriving from Germany to stay with her here in Godric's Hollow for the summer. Apparently he is a very intelligent, talented and ambitious boy and was top of the school in Durmstrang Institute. She says that it will be good for me to have some company close to my own age, and that I will like him very much. _

_It is true that this place is lonely, but I am not sure that Gellert and I will be fast friends. In the first place, students from Durmstrang have an unsavoury reputation. Secondly, he sounds very talented, which probably means that he is conceited. And thirdly, from what Bathilda says, he was mixed up in some sort of scandal and ended up being expelled for some cruel and dangerous pranks. I cannot abide people who are arrogant, unkind and abusive to others. But I am still looking forward to meeting Gellert, as it will be exciting to have someone new in Godric's Hollow, and we must never prejudge people. Perhaps I will like him after all._

_Do take care of yourself, and keep me informed of your adventures. _

_Your friend_

_Albus_

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><p>AN:

_Warning: _later chapters of this story may include, both explicitly and implicitly: violence, sex scenes, homosexuality and strong coarse language. If any of these make you uncomfortable, please read something else.

I know Grindelwald's nationality isn't specified in the books, but I made him German because I liked the title and it's one of the likely alternatives.


	2. The Arrival

The train pulled into King's Cross Station and slowed as it drew up alongside the platform, before finally coming to a halt. Doors slid open along its length and disgorged a crowd of passengers, who swarmed in a living sea as they flowed towards the exit. Even at this distance, even with her failing eyesight, Bathilda could not miss her great-nephew Gellert.

A tall youth with a mane of golden hair and cold, disdainful features, he stood with a faded green travelling bag in one hand and a parcel in the other, scanning the crowd for any sign of a familiar face. When he saw Bathilda, his eyebrows rose and he marched over to her.

"Großtante Bathilda!" he said warmly, his face breaking into a broad smile. It was a striking smile, one that crinkled up his eyes and transformed his arrogant features into something mischievous and playful. "It has been a long time since I have last seen you!"

"Gellert, my boy," Bathilda said, reaching up to touch a hand to his cheek. "It's good to see you again. You get taller and more handsome every time we meet."

He laughed. "And you get shorter. But also more beautiful. I am thinking it is this English countryside. It seems your air must be healthier than ours."

"Don't tease me, you cheeky boy," she scolded him. "I'm an old bat and I know it. And I'm sharp enough to know when I'm being flattered, too. Now, you come along with me. There's a coach waiting for us." She glanced at the bag in his hand. "You must be tired after your trip. Let me carry that for you."

"No, it's no trouble," Gellert said. "A simple Locomotor Charm will do." He drew his wand out of his pocket.

"Put that thing away, boy!" Bathilda hissed. "We don't do magic like that! Not out here, where the Muggles can see us!"

A frown creased Gellert's brow. "But why should we care what the Muggles think? Surely we wizards should not be frightened of them?"

"It's against the law to cast spells where Muggles might notice! Now you don't want to get in trouble on your first day here, do you, not after what happened in Germany?"

Gellert didn't say a word more, but after a few seconds he slipped his wand back into his pocket and picked up his bag. "I'll carry it," he said shortly. "Lead the way."

They walked to the coach in silence.

Soon they were settled in and the coach was rocking and swaying on its way out of the city. Gellert was quiet at first, and Bathilda thought he might still be upset from what happened at the station, but after a while he seemed to become cheerful again. He spent equal amounts of time gazing out of the window and staring at the other passengers.

"You have many fine buildings in London," he said approvingly. "But these are all Muggle buildings. Wizard architects could build much finer ones."

"Gellert..." Bathilda said. "How is your mother?"

"She is well." He threw a disapproving look at the other passengers. "All Muggles, I suppose?" His lip twitched slightly.

"Yes, most of them," Bathilda replied. "Not that it makes much difference. Now, is it true you were expelled from Durmstrang?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He stared at her. "Because the Headmaster of Durmstrang does not understand genius."

"Is that why, Gellert?" Bathilda returned her great-nephew's gaze defiantly, though she was a little frightened of him. "I heard that you did some... bad things."

Gellert turned his gaze back to the window. "People were jealous of my genius. Their envy turned to fear. So they made up stories about me. They were all scared that I would be more powerful than them, so they wanted to get rid of me. Well, I will show them."

They rode on in silence for a long time before Gellert spoke again. When he turned to face Bathilda, an intense fire blazed in his icy blue eyes. "This Godric's Hollow is a quiet place?"

"Yes, it's very peaceful."

"Good. I need some time to myself, to think. Tell me about this Dumbledore boy."

"Oh, you'll like him. He's a very nice young man. He's looking forward to meeting you."

"And he is intelligent, ja?"

"Very bright. Just like you. He was top of every class in his school. Research wizards from all over the world write to him."

"Sehr gut." Gellert leaned back, looking satisfied. "I am much looking forward to meeting him also. I am hoping he will help me with my English. And... other things."

Bathilda frowned. She didn't know what these "other things" were, but she was beginning to regret getting Dumbledore involved with her great-nephew._  
><em>


	3. Dumbledore's Burdens

"Come on, Snowdrop, come on." A smile glowed on Ariana's face as she knelt, patting her hands against her legs, beckoning the smallest goat towards her. "Come on, now. Time for your rest."

Snowdrop was enjoying his freedom and had no intention of returning to the barn any time soon. He gambolled about the grass on his stubby legs, ears flopping, chewing nervously and shooting glances at Ariana with his slotted goat eyes.

The sun was setting and purple curtains of dusk were drawing close around Godric's Hollow. Aberforth stood by the open barn door, arms crossed, watching Ariana as she watched the goat. There was such a simple, happy expression on her face. It made him hurt and angry, as it always did, to think about what his sister had gone through and what it had done to her. For such a young girl to suffer that... if the gods existed, which he doubted, they were cruel and sadistic bastards.

They'd had a nice day. He and Ariana had taken their four remaining goats out to browse, down the village path, up the green hills where the grass was lush and the summer flowers were in full bloom. As always, when she'd first come out of the house, she was nervous and walked very close to him, gripping his hand tightly and staring warily in every direction. By the time they'd reached the hills, however, she had relaxed a little, and even laughed to see all the flowers in their midsummer glory.

"Snowdrop!" Ariana rose to her feet and ran after the little goat, giggling, her footsteps unsteady as a child's. The goat dodged nimbly out of her way, its hooves skittering as it ran back and forth. After a while, though, it stopped and allowed Ariana to catch it. She wrapped her arms around it, lifted it and carried it back to Aberforth.

"He ran, but I caught him," she said proudly.

"He let you catch him," Aberforth told her. "He likes you. Put him in the barn and we'll close the door."

She knelt again, lowered the goat to the ground with exaggerated care and chivvied him inside. "In you go, Snowdrop. You'll be nice and warm and safe in there. I'll see you tomorrow."

Aberforth murmured a few words under his breath and made a few complicated motions in mid-air with his wand. The door of the barn swung shut and locked itself with a loud click.

"Come on," said Aberforth, taking his sister's hand. "Let's get something to eat now. We'll have to find our own supper. I'm sure Mr High and Mighty was far too busy with his books to fix anything for us."

"Please don't call Albus names," Ariana said sadly. "He's our brother. Our family. We need to be nice to each other. We don't have anyone else to look after us."

"I'm sorry," Aberforth said at once, cursing himself for a fool. He'd made Ariana sad, and he hated to see that look on her face. "I promise I won't call him names again." _Not where you can hear, anyway. _

_Albus, our family? He doesn't need or want us for his family. He had all his great and famous friends at Hogwarts, and he never had time for us then. Why would the great Albus Dumbledore want to be saddled with a loser brother and a disturbed sister? He hates being stuck here and he hates us. You can see it in his face, every time he looks at us._

But Ariana couldn't see it. She wasn't good at reading other people's emotions, and in her childlike innocence she simply assumed the best of others. All she knew was that Albus was the smart, strong, big brother who had come back to take care of them after their parents had... gone away.

As they walked across the field towards the house, a breeze rustled the grass, stirred the branches of the trees and curled around them, carrying the scent of wild herbs.

"Snowdrop doesn't like going into the barn," Ariana said softly. "Even though he has to, to be safe, because there are dangerous things out there in the world, things that can hurt you. But he wishes he didn't have to be locked up in there all the time. He wishes he could be free. I know how he feels."

Aberforth wished he knew what to say to that, but he didn't, so he was silent.

Ariana turned her head to look at him. "I've seen foxes. They sneak into barns sometimes. Are you sure the goats will be safe?"

"I cast the protective charms around the barn myself. They will be safe."

"Promise?"

"Ariana, I promise I won't let anything bad happen to them." _Or to you._

"Thank you, Abe."

Once they were inside, Ariana sat in the lounge room, in the rocking chair by the fireplace, while Aberforth went into the kitchen to find something to eat. He surveyed the pantry, larder and cupboards before returning to his sister. Ariana was staring into the fire in that strangely intent way she had, as though she was watching something in the flickering, dancing flames that no one else could see.

Aberforth said, "We have bread, cheese, jam, eggs, nuts and pudding... anything you fancy?" Ariana didn't eat meat, probably because she spent a lot of time with their animals and thought of them as her friends, and when Aberforth was dining with her he followed her lead. Before Ariana could reply, however, Albus entered the room.

He looked very smart, dressed in a suit of formal dress robes beautifully embroidered with floral designs, but all in black as a sign of mourning. He looked more absent-minded than usual. Aberforth felt the usual scowl settle on his face at the sight of his brother.

"Ah, Aberforth," Dumbledore said. "There you are. I've been looking for you the past two hours. Where've you been?"

"Ariana and I went for a walk with the goats."

"Goats? Oh. I see. Well, I'm sure I mentioned before that Ms Bagshot invited me to a dinner at her house this evening. Her great-nephew has just arrived from Germany."

Aberforth hated the way Albus just ignored Ariana when he spoke, as though she wasn't in the room.

"I was going to ask you and Ariana if you would like to come with me. I wasn't sure if it was a good idea... I mean, it would be good for her to get some company, but in her condition it wouldn't do to get her over-excited. So I meant to ask you whether the two of you would like to come along, or, if not, would you stay and watch her for me?" Albus fiddled with his collar and tugged at his sleeves.

"We'll stay," Aberforth said firmly.

"Are you sure? Will you be all right for dinner?"

"Yes," Aberforth said gruffly, turning away and going to sit beside Ariana. "Off you go. We'll be fine here."

"Oh... right then. Well, I'd best be off. I should be back by nine, possibly ten. Do keep an eye on things, and if you need anything, you know where to find me."

Aberforth grunted. Albus left, and soon after there was the sound of the front door closing with a soft thud. For a moment there was no noise but the crackling and spitting of the flames. Aberforth turned his head and watched Ariana's still form, the firelight washing over her yellow hair and peaceful face as she sat and slowly rocked, her eyelids drooping half-closed as though she were falling asleep.

"What are you looking at, Ariana?" Aberforth asked her.

It was half a minute before she replied. "I see things," she said softly. "In the fire."

"What kind of things?"

"Shapes. People. Places. I see the rain falling on the hills. I see the river running down the mountain. Our family, all together and happy. Albus getting on a red train to go to school. Mama in a big box, being put in the ground. Snowdrop and the goats, running on the grass. The big dog, stalking behind them."

"Big dog?" said Aberforth sharply. "What big dog?"

"The dog from the church," Ariana said dreamily. "It was there when Mama was put in the box. It stood by the gravestones, by the stone gods and angels, and looked at me with burning eyes. It wanted me to go with it, but I was scared. It's following me now, walking down the hills, along the road to our house, coming closer and closer..."

"That's enough!" Aberforth stood and pulled Ariana away from the fire, pulled her to his side. "That's enough now. You're tired, you don't know what you're saying. Come into the kitchen. We'll eat something."

As he led her out of the room, his hands were shaking.

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><p><strong>AN:**

Thanks a lot for the review, Nath F! I really appreciate it.


	4. Appetiser

Albus knocked on the front door of the Bagshot residence and straightened his robes for what must have been the hundredth time. He hadn't been to a formal occasion since his mother's funeral and he was rather nervous. Since returning to Godric's Hollow, he had spent all his time on his own or in the company of his siblings, who were not exactly polite society. Bathilda had always been good to him and he wanted to make a good impression.

After a few moments, the door swung open to reveal... a film star? The boy standing there was about Albus' age, but there was a maturity and self-assurance in his bearing that made him seem much older. Without saying a word, he projected an aura of confidence and absolute certainty, as though he was accustomed to having the whole world do as he said. And his face would have made a sculptor weep. Albus had never seen him before.

The boy raised his eyebrows disdainfully as his gaze took Albus in, the look in his cold blue eyes making it clear that he already considered this a waste of time.

"Yes?" he said. "What are you wanting?" He had a foreign accent... German?

Albus recovered his powers of speech and cleared his throat.

"Ah," he said, "you must be Gellert. Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Albus. Albus Dumbledore. Your great-aunt invited me..."

"Oh, Albus Dumbledore!" Gellert smiled, a charming smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course, we have been expecting you. Please excuse my rudeness. Come inside." He stood back and allowed Albus to enter the front hall before shutting the door behind them. Turning, he looked at Albus appraisingly. "So, this is the famous Dumbledore!"

Gellert was broad-shouldered and tall, even taller than Albus, who had always been bigger than his classmates. He had hard blue eyes that burned like chips of sapphire. Wavy gold hair framed his face like a lion's mane, and his expression was imperious and stern, as though he was permanently sneering at everything. For a moment there was a searching, almost hungry look on his face as he stared at Albus. He took Albus' hand in his own and shook it forcefully. His hand was warm and his grip was strong, and Albus felt a curious sensation where Gellert's hand touched his.

"Well, I don't know about famous," Albus said. He was a bit taken aback that Gellert seemed to know him, when he knew nothing whatsoever about Gellert.

"Ja," said Gellert. He stood very close to Albus in the narrow front hall, his face just a few inches away, and Albus was uncomfortably aware of Gellert's warm breath. "I have heard of you. Many call you the greatest student Hogwarts has ever produced." He was smiling again, wolfishly, but there was a look in his eyes that Albus didn't much care for. It was a challenging look, as if to say, _do you think you're a great wizard? Next to me, you're nothing._

"An exaggeration... certainly, I did well enough at school..."

"Let us go into the dining room, my friend. We are having dinner straight away." Gellert's eyes lingered on Albus' a moment longer before he released Albus' hand, turned and led the way out of the hall.

Bathilda's dining room, like the rest of her house, was small but richly furnished. A long mahogany table stood in the centre, spread with a white tablecloth and set with silver cutlery and fine china. Light shone from the fireplace, as well as some candelabra and a couple of ornate chandeliers suspended from the ceiling. Over the fireplace hung a portrait of an old Bagshot relative, currently empty, as its occupant seemed to have taken off somewhere.

"Albus! How good of you to join us!" Bathilda was seated in the chair closest to the fireplace, but when she saw Albus enter, she stood and swept over to him with surprising speed for a woman of her age. She was wearing an elegant purple gown with a matching shawl. Diamond earrings flashed on her earlobes, gold rings adorned her fingers and a necklace of pearls encircled her neck. When she reached Albus, she embraced him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you very much for inviting me, Ms Bagshot," Albus said, bowing. "And if I may be so bold, you look simply enchanting this evening."

"Does she not?" said Gellert. He was standing on the other side of the table with his arms held behind his back and his shoulders thrown back like a military officer, smiling. "I tried to tell her this, but she did not believe me."

"Oh, you boys!" said Bathilda. "You do know how to flatter an old woman."

Gellert said, "It is not flattery. It is truth. You are very nice to look at."

"It runs in the family," Albus blurted suddenly. Gellert and Bathilda stared at him, and blood rushed to his face, making his cheeks hot with embarassment. He felt like kicking himself. "Uh, what I mean is, uh, that is to say, um, Gellert certainly has the looks to be a film star," he stammered. "Which is all I meant. That is to say, I think the Bagshot family are endowed with good looks, which is quite fortunate..."

"You're right there," Bathilda said. "Gellert has always had the girls chasing after him, ever since he was a boy. Rather like you, Albus. I hear you were very popular at Hogwarts: Head Boy, top of every class, delightful manners, tall and handsome... the girls were lining up for you."

"It is easy to see why," Gellert put in. It took Albus a few moments to realise what Gellert had said, and then he looked at the German boy, hardly daring to believe his ears. "Intelligence is attractive. Also knowledge and power. And I am sensing that Albus is a very powerful wizard, is that not so, Albus?" Gellert grinned. "I feel that we will have much to teach each other."

"I knew you would like him, Gellert," said Bathilda. "Of course, Albus was never very interested in romance in school. He was far too busy with his studies and his intellectual pursuits, for which all of magical philosophy should be grateful. And yet, the poor girls at Hogwarts were so disappointed. Do you know, I first got to know him when I read an article of his in _Transfiguration Today _on, what was it now, the mechanisms by which mass is conserved during transfiguration? I thought it was incredible that a boy still in school could have such an insight into the fundamental workings of magic. But why are we standing here talking? Let's sit down and begin our dinner."

They moved to the table and took their places. Bathilda returned to her chair at the end of the table closest to the fireplace, while Gellert and Albus sat facing each other, one on either side of Bathilda. Albus felt a flash of irritation. For some reason he wanted to sit beside Gellert. He found the other boy very interesting, in a way that he could not quite explain, perhaps because he didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Birdy!" Bathilda called.

_Crack! _A house-elf appeared beside Bathilda and sank into a deep bow. The elf appeared to be female, and she was wearing clean, tidy rags.

"Yes, Mistress?" she said in a squeaky voice.

"We're ready for our meal. Bring out the appetiser," Bathilda commanded. "It's nothing too fancy," she added apologetically, looking at Albus. "Quite a simple dinner, really. We only have one house-elf here and I rarely entertain."

Albus replied, "I assure you, anything more than bread and cheese will be like a feast to me. I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble."

"Ach, such a perfect gentleman he is," said Gellert lazily, watching Albus from across the table.

Albus swallowed. He didn't know why, but whenever he met Gellert's eyes, his mouth went dry, his stomach fluttered and he felt his heart beat a little faster.


	5. Heart's Fall

As the house-elf, Birdy, served the appetisers, and they began to tuck in, Albus found himself shooting furtive glances at Gellert. He found the other boy fascinating and he knew it would be only polite to make conversation, but much as he wanted to, he found himself quite tongue-tied. There was something intimidating about Bathilda's tall, stern great-nephew.

Fortunately, Gellert seemed to suffer from no such shyness. As he impaled a dumpling on his fork and shifted it to his plate, he said, "Großtante, you were saying about Albus' article in Transfigurating Today_? _I am very curious to learn more about him and his research."

"Transfigura_tion _Today," Bathilda corrected him. "Yes, his article was on the conservation of matter, as I said. I would go into details, but we have the expert right here with us, so why don't you ask him yourself?"

Gellert turned and fixed Albus with a penetrating stare, and Albus felt a rush of warmth in his face that had nothing to do with the fire's heat.

"I would love to talk about my research," Albus managed to say. He looked down and fiddled with his cutlery, pushing the pastries around on his plate so he wouldn't have to meet Gellert's gaze. "But may I say, I'm curious about Gellert, too. I don't know anything about what he does, or his areas of interest…" He risked an upwards glance and saw Gellert looking at him with exactly the same expression as before, as though no time had passed. It was strange; Gellert's face was generally emotionless, but when emotion did appear, it was sudden and intense. It was as though his face only had two settings: blank or passionate, with none of the moderate expressions in between that most people had.

"Natürlich, I must tell you about myself also," said Gellert. "I came from Germany, as you know already. I have been a student at Durmstrang Institute until recently."

"Gellert decided that it would be best to take a break from his studies," Bathilda interrupted. Gellert shook his head at her.

"Nein, Großtante Bathilda, why do you lie? You are trying to protect my honour, or perhaps your own, but it means nothing to me. I am not ashamed of anything." He looked defiantly at Albus. "I was expelled from Durmstrang. The Headmaster and the other students will say that I broke the rules and did unspeakable things, but in truth, they were jealous of my power and my determination. I was the best student to ever attend Durmstrang Institute, and in my third year I already knew more magic than all of the teachers. There was nothing left for anyone to teach me, so I spent the rest of the years teaching myself, pushing the study of magic to the highest limit."

As Gellert spoke, a strange force seemed to animate his whole body with power and passion. His eyes blazed brighter than ever, his voice swelled like thunder, and his remarkable face seemed to shine with sincerity. Albus was enthralled. Though he didn't realise it, he was staring at Gellert with his mouth slightly open. He couldn't look away.

"You asked about my areas of interest? _Magic_ is my area of interest. I want to be the greatest, the best, the most powerful magician that ever lived. I have read a thousand books and done a thousand experiments and gone further on the paths of knowledge than most wizards three times my age. But the more I learn, the more I see that there is so much more to learn… it almost makes me to weep, to think that although if I study for a thousand years, I will only have one droplet of power of the whole ocean of magic. But I will be the one who does this. The others are too weak, too stupid, too cowardly to become a great sorcerer."

"Only think, how much power there is in the universe, greater than any wizard has ever seen? The power of the sun, burning for hundreds and thousands of years, hotter than any fire on Earth. The power of the whirlwind, the tidal wave, the earthquake, the storm, all of which destroy cities and eradicate everything in their path. The power of the magnet, the atom and the electron, the fundamental forces of creation and destruction which drive the universe. These are the powers I want to hold in my hand, the powers a true superior wizard will control. And what can be done with these powers?"

"Think of how much suffering and wickedness there is on Earth. Everywhere we see war, disease, pain, death and cruelty. There is one solution only to these problems, which is true magic. The Mugglevölker will never solve these problems, because they lack magic. They can only make things worse with their devil machines. Most wizards also cannot solve these problems, because they lack vision, power and determination. But in every generation there is a great wizard, chosen by Fate or Destiny or Divine Providence, to lead the people. In King Arthur's time there was Merlin. Who will be the Merlin of our time? If we harness the true power of magic, we can create a perfect society, where people will live in harmony and peace, and no one will suffer from evil again."

As Gellert finished, there was a long, ringing silence, and in that silence Albus just stared at Gellert as though seeing him for the first time. How had the blond boy changed so much in the short time he had been speaking? It was as though Gellert's cold and distant exterior had been hiding a fiery and passionate soul deep inside it all this time. And when Gellert spoke of his visions of magical power, Albus felt as though he was finally seeing Gellert's true nature: a wild, dangerous and beautiful spirit that only rarely emerged, a secret part of Gellert that was both vulnerable and tender, yet incredibly strong and deadly.

Although Albus didn't realise it, in that moment he had already lost his heart to Gellert Grindelwald and would never fully recover it. The fire of longing that Gellert kindled in him that night would never go out, and Albus would never be whole again for the rest of his life.

Albus had never heard anyone speaking that way about magic before. Until this moment, he had thought that mastery of magic meant books, articles, theorems, calculations and reports. Magic was something academic. It was interesting enough, even fascinating, but on a purely intellectual level. Yet now, having heard Gellert speak of magic in terms of passion, having heard of Gellert's naked lust for power, his burning ambition to uncover the secrets of the universe, seize the powers of the elements, use magic to shake the very foundations of society, destroy evil and suffering, even death, create an earthly paradise… now Albus' old understanding of magic seemed empty, childish and worthless.

The way Gellert spoke of magic, as though it were a seductive enchanter, tempting the magician down paths of forbidden knowledge, a spiritual teacher, drawing the magician to its bosom and divulging the secrets of existence, a friend and lover, always keeping the magician company, even a divine saviour, promising to take away the suffering of the world… it had such a tremendous effect on Albus, shaking him to his core. For an instant he saw the world through Gellert's eyes, and was intoxicated by promises of power in Gellert's words.

And to think, Albus had been so excited to go to his study, lock himself in and read his old books! He had thought that magic was a small bare room and some dusty pages! But the promise of magic that he saw in Gellert's eyes now, was not a few silly spells written with ink and paper. It was the entire world. It was the true magic, the magic of life and death, creation and destruction, the magic that spawned the universe and everything in it.

And Albus was in love. Whether he was in love with Gellert, or his words, or the magical power radiating from him, or all three at once, Albus didn't know, but he knew that he would never be the same again. All his feelings were mixed up and churning inside of him. His mind, his universe, his horizons had opened up and expanded beyond his wildest dreams.

For a long time the two boys said nothing, but stared into each other's eyes as though communicating by some silent means. There was a new connection between them.

At last, Bathilda broke the silence.

"Well, Gellert," she said uncomfortably, "it's good to have ambitions, but we mustn't overstep the boundaries." She popped a dumpling into her mouth and chewed slowly.

"But," Gellert said, finally breaking eye contact with Albus, and looking at his great-aunt. "Sometimes boundaries must be stepped over for the sake of progress."

"If you say so, dear. But I hope you'll be taking a break from it for a while. Since you've been busy crossing boundaries in Germany, it might be nice if you take it easy for your stay here."

Albus hardly even heard what Bathilda was saying. He was too busy looking at Gellert.

Afterwards the two boys could not stop talking. Birdy served fresh courses and cleared away the old platters, but Gellert and Albus hardly had time for their food. They were talking about the latest magical discoveries, sharing opinions on everything from the nature of energy-matter to the proper care of juvenile unicorns. On some subjects they were in total agreement and there was much laughter, while on others they argued fiercely, but it was always in a spirit of good humour.

Bathilda was a distinguished professor and researcher, and an exceptionally sharp witch herself, but the level of the two boys' conversation was so advanced that at times she hadn't the faintest idea what they were talking about.

Albus was delighted with Gellert all over again. For the first time in his life he was having a conversation with someone who might be more intelligent than he was. Gellert's views on magical philosophy were miles ahead of most wizards', at least in Albus' opinion. The only trouble Albus found was that Gellert's social views were… surprisingly backward for someone so brilliant. The two of them clashed, for example, on whether women should be admitted to the major universities.

"It's nothing but discrimination," Albus said. "Why shouldn't one half of our population be given access to education? It's denying them a basic right."

"You see, Albus," Gellert explained, "if these university places are given to women, then these places will be taken away from the men."

"But what difference does that make?"

"Because women are not suited to the higher magical education, neither mentally, physically, nor by nature."

"Ahem!" said Bathilda.

"No, Großtante, do not misunderstand me. I mean no offence. You are a brilliant woman, as intelligent as any man. But you are an exception, and there are always exceptions. The most of your female sex are less capable than men in magical and scholarly learning."

Bathilda wasn't very impressed. "It's a good thing you are my favourite great-nephew, Gellert, otherwise I would give you such a smack for that."

Gellert reacted to that comment in a peculiar way. For an instant he scowled, looking quite ferociously angry for a remark meant in jest, but a second later his expression was smooth again, and he laughed it off.

As it turned out, Gellert's views on race were even worse than his views on gender. He was apparently convinced of the superiority of the Germanic race over other Europeans, such as the Celtic, the Slavic, the Mediterranean and others, whom he regarded as inferior and degraded. For his evidence, he insisted that most of the great magical discoveries of the modern era had been made by Germanic-speaking Europeans.

"Come now, Gellert," said Albus. "So many of the great contributions to magical philosophy have been made by civilisations from all around the world: the Chinese, the Persians, the Egyptians, the Indians, the Arabs and so on. Not to mention the astonishing number of Jewish wizards who have won the Nostradamus Award in modern times! How on earth can you claim that Europeans are superior, let alone that Germanics are the most superior of all?"

Gellert said, "Albus, I am now seeing that you have a gentle heart. You want to believe good things about everyone, all your fellow human beings. It is a good sign. You are gentle and kind. But the truth does not care about what is gentle or kind. Some facts are ugly, but they are still facts. I can see that this makes you uncomfortable, so let us speak about something else. I do not want to lose your friendship over these difficult issues."

The conversation turned to more pleasant subjects, and Albus found himself enjoying Gellert's company once again. They kept talking and talking until the meal was over and all the dishes were cleared away.

Suddenly Bathilda said, "My goodness, look at the time!" The clock was showing half past eleven. "Dear me, you boys do know how to have a conversation. I think I learnt more in the past two hours than I did in the last twenty years of my research. I'm sorry to spoil your fun, but I'm so tired now and I need to get to bed. It's my age. I expect Albus will want to get back to his family too. Come and give me a kiss, dear, then Gellert can see you to the door."

Albus gave Bathilda a kiss on the cheek, though he couldn't help thinking that he would rather kiss her great-nephew.

"Thank you for having me, Professor Bagshot," he said. "I enjoyed myself so much tonight, more than I have in a very long time."

Gellert walked Albus to the door, and then the two of them stepped out onto the lane. Although it was summer, the night was quite chilly. A cool wind rushed by and tousled the boys' hair, and Albus shivered a little and folded his arms.

"I'm very glad to have met you," he told Gellert. "The way you spoke… about magic, about everything. Your ideas, your passion… it's incredible. It had such an effect on me. I honestly believe this is a life changing experience. Thank you." He felt awkward, like the words were tripping over his tongue, and he didn't know what else to say. He stared up at Gellert's face, though it was obscured by shadow, only the cold eyes glinting by the light of the moon and stars.

"You flatter me," Gellert said with a warm laugh. He was standing so close to Albus.

At the sound of Gellert's voice, Albus felt bittersweet pangs surge through his body. He was having trouble breathing. He knew what this feeling inside of him was, but he had never allowed himself to express it before. It must be kept strictly controlled. This pain, this pleasure, the best feeling in the world, but at the same time the worst. He didn't want to go through this again. He wouldn't survive it.

"I am much looking forward to seeing more of you, Albus. We have much to teach each other. You are a brilliant mind, a sensitive heart, a rare and precious soul. Others may not appreciate this, but I can see your worth. I need you. With your help, I can achieve amazing things. Come and see me tomorrow… every day. Good night." He reached out and touched Albus's shoulder. Albus felt a thrill of pleasure radiating from that spot, all over his body. Then Gellert turned and went back into Bathilda's house.

Albus walked home as if in a dream. He couldn't quite believe what was happening. Everything felt soft and fuzzy, yet sharper and clearer at the same time. His thoughts kept turning back to Gellert, the way he stared, the way he spoke, the way he laughed, the way he said, 'You are special, Albus.' Had he really said that, or had Albus just imagined it?

When he got home, he let himself in as quietly as possible. He stole into the corridor outside Aberforth's bedroom and saw his two siblings asleep on Aberforth's bed, Aberforth sprawled out with his tall, ungainly form and Ariana curled up beside him like a little animal.

Albus went to his own bedroom, undressed and tried to sleep, yet every time he tried to lie down, he had to sit up again. His stomach was churning and he felt light-headed. He kept thinking of Gellert and grinning like an idiot in the darkness.

"Gellert," he whispered to himself. "Gellert. Gellert Grindelwald." The name was a spell, a talisman, a good-luck charm that erased the loneliness and emptiness of the past few months – no, his entire life – and promised a future full of adventure, excitement and new experiences. It was a sweet name, wasn't it? The best name in the world.

Somehow Albus Dumbledore fell asleep. He dreamed of a wolf's smile, a voice like thunder, the touch of a warm, strong hand, golden hair... and cold eyes, hard as chips of stone.


	6. A Difference of Opinion

Gellert sat in his pyjamas, idly flipping through a copy of the Daily Prophet, scanning the headlines as he usually did to practise his English. He looked up when Bathilda appeared, dressed in a nightgown and escorted by the house-elf.

"All ready for bed, I see. Good." Bathilda eased herself into her favourite, comfortable green chair by the fireplace. "Everything all right, Gellert?"

"Ja. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I just wanted to know if you were settling in without any problems. This is your first night here. Have you enjoyed yourself so far? I know it must be hard for you, coming to stay in this small village with no one but an old lady for company. Godric's Hollow is a quiet place. That's why I wanted to introduce you to Albus. I thought you would relate to him."

"I did," said Gellert. "It is as you told. I found him to be a most stimulating dinner guest."

"And what did you think of him?" Bathilda looked at Gellert eagerly. Being one of the Dumbledore family's few close friends and one of the earliest people to recognise Albus' talent, she had always felt a proprietary interest in Albus, almost as though he was her own family. "When I first met Albus, he reminded me strongly of you. The same precocious intellect, the magical prowess, the sense that destiny had something great in store for him."

"Yes," Gellert said, thoughtfully, folding the paper and replacing it on the reading table. "He is like me... in some ways. But quite different in other ways. He seems undeveloped to me, like he has not explored his powers to the full extent that I have. I wonder why that is. Was he not curious to see everything he could do with his magic, to unleash it, give it totally free reign and reshape the world to his own design?"

"Well..." said Bathilda. "There are things in Albus' life that would've made him cautious about his magical abilities."

"What things?" Gellert asked, his eyes flicking instantly to her.

Bathilda hesitated, fidgeting with her nightgown. "I'm not sure I ought to tell you," she said. "Maybe you should get to know Albus a little better first. It's quite personal."

"As you say. I myself will ask him." Gellert returned to the newspaper. "Ach, what is this? Wizengamot approves Christian church in all-magical community?_ 'The traditionally Magian village of Little Tanton is to be the site of a new Christian church, after a decision by the Wizengamot overturned the local council's ban on the grounds that it violated freedom of religion.'_ Nein, nein, und nochmals Nein! Why must they insist on doing these things?" He shook his head, disgusted. "So I see that here in England, too, you have the government eager to destroy wizarding culture."

Bathilda frowned. "What on earth are you talking about, Gellert? I have my fair share of disagreements with old Spout-hole Spavins and his clowns in parliament, but they can hardly be accused of destroying wizarding culture. They're far too incompetent to destroy anything."

"This," Gellert said, nodding towards the paper in his hands. "Allowing the Muggles to build a Christian church in a Magian village!"

"Oh, that. Yes, there was a bit of fuss about it in the papers, you know how some uneducated people are. Frankly, Gellert, I'm surprised you would call this a destruction of wizarding culture. These days, most wizards are Christian anyway."

"Nein!" shouted Gellert, hurling the newspaper away from him. "They are not wizards! They are Muggles, Muggles, Muggles! Muggle-born or Muggles, it makes no difference, they are not real wizards! Only Magians are true wizards!"

Birdy cowered from the sudden outburst and scurried out of the room. Bathilda was stunned into silence for a moment as she stared at her great nephew, his face twisted with rage, his eyes flashing with fury, his shoulders heaving with each heavy breath, his hands clenched into fists. He had half risen out of his seat, and now he stood up and paced back and forth.

"This is what they do," he continued. "They wish to destroy our culture and replace it with theirs! They came here as invaders, all the armies of the Roman Empire, and they burnt down our temples and sacred trees and built their churches and forced us to convert! Now they are too cunning to fight us directly, so they say, 'We only want to live with you in peace, let us come into your magical villages and build our churches and bring all our hundreds of Muggle men, women and children with us.'

And when the churches are built, what happens then? They all have hundreds of Muggle kids, so they outnumber us. They refuse to assimilate into our society and learn our ways. Then they start recruiting and converting. They preach that our Magian religion, the real religion of wizardkind, is false and bad and sinful! They want us all to follow their Muggle religion instead!"

"Gellert, would you listen to yourself! It's nonsense to say that Christianity is a Muggle religion. Maybe that was true once upon a time, but these days many wizards are Christian."

Gellert rounded on her and bellowed, "Because they were forced to convert! Because they were tortured and then given a choice, to renounce their Magian religion and live, or to keep true to their faith and burn at the stake or drown in the river!"

Bathilda watched her great-nephew with dismay in her eyes. She'd known that Gellert had had a hard life, but she hadn't known there was all this bitterness and hatred festering inside him. "Gellert, the events you are talking about, witch-burnings and torture, happened hundreds of years ago. Four hundred years ago! How can our society ever move on and find peace if people don't forgive and forget?"

"Forget?" spat Gellert. "They torture and burn and kill us for centuries, and you are asking me to just forget? How can I forget all the pure magical blood that has been spilt by the Muggles? And you say it happened four hundred years past, as if it will not still happen, as if they will not do it again in the future. It's part of their religion, they must convert us or kill us! Have you never read their holy books? It says, 'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,' 'Do not consort with a sorcerer,', 'Slay the pagans wherever you find them.' Is that not proof enough?"

"Don't try that with me, Gellert," Bathilda said angrily. "I have actually read the holy books in question, unlike you, who seem to have simply picked a few quotes out to make your prejudice look more reasonable. I recognise the first two lines from the Torah and the third from the Quran. I find it interesting that you chose those violent verses instead of the hundreds of more peaceful ones you could have quoted. The fact is that every holy text written thousands of years ago has bits in it that seem immoral by today's standards.

What about our own Magian religion? I could quote hundreds of verses suggesting that our religion was violent, especially when taken out of context. Take for example Thor's Hammer, which was sung by the Vikings when they sailed here from Scandinavia and looted, plundered, murdered and pillaged all through England:

_'The midnight sun is low and ruddy_

_The warrior's blade is swift and bloody._

_Life depends upon the sword,_

_Hear the song of Viking lord!'_

Or what about the Long March of Tyw, which is a hymn to our god of War? And let's not forget the numerous Magian prayers from the pre-Roman period which record our ancestors' practice of animal and human sacrifice. And you say the Muggles are violent? No, Gellert. I know it may be simpler to believe that all Christians and Muslims and Jews are wicked and savage, while we Magians are pure and gentle and civilised, but reality is much more complicated than that. In life there is no such thing as black and white, there are only shades of grey. If we fall into the trap of thinking that our people are perfect and everyone else is inferior... that sort of thinking can only lead to prejudice, war and worse things!"

Gellert glared at his great-aunt. "I am disappointed with you, Großtante. You are one of these intelligent people who has fallen for the anti-wizard propaganda. You think that just because you have good intentions, the Muggles must also. It is well-meaning fools like you who are destroying our society by inviting the Christians and other degenerates inside to do as they please. They will take advantage of your soft heart and use it to progress their own agenda. I am supposing you will not be happy until our whole culture is destroyed and they have taken over everything!"

Now Bathilda stood, too, and there was a flush in her cheeks. "Gellert, I will not be spoken to like that in my own house! As a matter of fact, I am not favour of anyone taking over anything. I am in favour of people respecting each other and living together in peace. In the course of my research I have travelled all around the world and corresponded with people from every different background, including one or two Muggles, you might be surprised to know! And what I have learnt in my many years on this planet is that people all over the world are pretty much the same as each other. Now, you may know much more about magic than I do, but from the things you've said today, there's a lot you still don't know about people. And although you may be a great sorcerer, you still have a great deal to learn about being a decent human being!"

There was a tense, ringing silence. Then Gellert said,

"I am going to bed now."

Breathing heavily, Bathilda said, "I think that would be best. Goodnight, Gellert."

He turned and left the room without a word.

Once inside his bedroom, Gellert locked the door and paced angrily. He kicked the side of his bed as hard as he could, making a serious dent in it. Sticking his hand into his pocket, he drew out his wand and blasted a picture hanging on the opposite wall, making it fall to the floor in flames. After a minute he sat down on the side of the bed and hunched over, leaning his chin on his hands.

Why, why couldn't Großtante Bathilda see the foolishness of what she was saying? Why didn't she realise how important it was for wizardkind to safeguard their culture from the great sea of aliens ready to pour in and sweep them into oblivion? She was just a stupid old woman. No, she wasn't, she was actually quite intelligent, which made it worse. Why would otherwise smart people deny the facts that were right before their eyes? Was it because they were blinded by their idealism, or was it their fear of confrontation? It was just like that Dumbledore boy, arguing so fiercely that women were just as good as men, or that other races were just as good as the Germanic stock, when the evidence so clearly pointed in the other direction.

Gellert would convince his great-aunt of the rightness of his cause. He would have to show her just how dangerous these Christians could be. She obviously didn't know because she'd never met any of them firsthand. Yes, Gellert would have to reason with his great-aunt and persuade her. If he could just make her see sense...

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise from the other side of the room. Rising to his feet, he strode around the bed and suddenly came to a halt. The house-elf was standing beside the chest at the foot of his bed, holding a pile of freshly laundered towels.

"Get. Out," Gellert said in a deathly whisper. The house-elf began to quiver.

"Begging your pardon, Master Gellert," it squeaked in its hideous, pathetic attempt at human speech. "I was just seeing if Master Gellert had enough towels, sir."

Gellert flew into a rage at those words. "How dare you speak to me, hauself!" he roared. Lashing out with his wand, he lifted the house-elf off its feet and sent it crashing into the far wall with a loud crack, where it started screaming. "Hauselfen should be not seen and never heard! Bad enough that you came into my room, but you dare to speak to me! It seems that in England you hauselfen are spoilt, you think you can actually speak to a wizard! My great-aunt may be soft with you, but if you say a word to me again, I shall see that you never speak again!"

As he shouted, he sent the elf hurtling from wall to wall, roof to floor, and as it smashed into each surface it shrieked anew with pain, sobbing and crying for help, begging for mercy, but Gellert was unmoved. "I told you to shut up!" he said, pounding it into the chest of drawers, where its cries only grew louder. "You filthy unterwesen, you are not fit for survival in this modern world. You and your kind would have died away long ago if we wizards had not taken pity on you and brought you into our homes. And this is how you reply that kindness, by trangressing the boundaries set for you by your betters and masters!"

_"Gellert!"_ The door of the bedroom was open now, and Bathilda stood in the doorway with her wand drawn and an expression of pure horror on her face. "Freya have mercy!" With a wave of her wand, she plucked the struggling house-elf from where it hovered in midair and brought it flying into her arms, where it buried its face in her side and embraced her, its tiny body wracked and spasming with sobs. "Oh Birdy, oh my poor Birdy, what has he done to you?"

Raising her head, Bathilda stared at Gellert with pain in her eyes. She still thought of her nephew as the beautiful little laughing boy he had once been, the handsome, charming young man he had grown into, and she didn't understand how he could have turned into the monster she saw before her now. "Great gods above, Gellert, what in blazes is wrong with you? Have you gone completely mad?"

Gellert advanced on her, wand in hand, and Bathilda almost didn't recognise him with the ugly expression distorting his face.

"Get out!" he yelled. "Get out! Now!"

Bathilda retreated a couple of steps, out of the room. The door slammed shut in her face and locked itself.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Note to readers: I have a month to go 'til my exams are over so I probably won't be able to write anything until then. Sorry!**  
><strong>


	7. Moonlight Stroll

In the dead of night, Gellert opened his eyes and lay still in bed. Turning his head, he cast his eyes straight to the wand where it lay on the bedside table, aglow in a wash of moonlight. As he focused on it, he heard it whispering to him softly in the gloom, felt the answering darkness within him stirring, deep and strong, the power rising and flowing inside his blood, seeking a way out. Although it was past midnight, he didn't feel sleepy at all. As a matter of fact, he felt wider awake than ever.

He slipped out of bed, padded softly over to the table and picked up the wand. As he gripped its familiar, comforting length in his hand, feeling the warm wood shift beneath his grip like a living thing, he thought he felt it quiver with excitement. There was something different about it today. It seemed more volatile, more alive than usual, and he thought he knew why.

"It is the Dumbledore boy, yes?" he whispered in the dark. "You felt it too. He was powerful, more powerful than anyone we have met before." At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the wand fairly leaped beneath Gellert's fingers. "What is this? This is the first time anyone but me has had such an effect on you. If you are not careful now, I will be jealous." He squeezed the wand firmly, to remind it who was in charge.

"So this confirms what I suspected. The boy is as powerful as I am. But there is something strange about him. He does not behave like a powerful person. He is so withdrawn, inside himself, like someone who is scared and hiding. But perhaps that is for the best. It will be easier for me to control him, make use of him."

The wand shivered slightly.

"What is that? He is powerful? Yes, but so are you, and I am your master now, am I not?"

The wand stiffened for a moment, then went limp and lay unresisting in his hand.

"Gut," he said. "And I will break Dumbledore the same way."

He was restless now, the magic still ebbing and flowing inside him, making him claustrophobic. He needed to get out of the wooden walls of this house, go for a walk in the wide open spaces where there was room for his power to release itself, giving him the peace of mind he needed to think.

Like a ghost, he drifted silently through the wooden door of the room, descended the stairs and moved through the darkened interior of the hallway. As he reached the front door, he sensed a faint, newly cast enchantment woven around the house's perimeter in addition to the usual protective charms. As the realisation came to him he almost felt like laughing: his great-aunt, worried that he might leave the house in his anger, had cast a sensory spell to alert her if he crossed the boundaries. She had put some effort into concealing the spell, and most fully trained wizards would have trouble detecting it, but to Gellert it was child's play. For a moment he considered tripping the spell just to bring his great-aunt out of bed and let her know that he didn't care, but he eventually decided against it. He slipped through the charms and the front door with ease and found himself outside in the cool darkness.

The waning moon was high in the sky and almost full, shedding a pale glow over the landscape. The chirping of crickets and the gentle rustling of wind through tree boughs were the only sounds in the night.

Gellert strode swiftly over the grass, moving far quicker than any Muggle could have, until he left the house far behind and came to a grassy field. The silent turf spread out around him in every direction, while above him the midnight expanse of the sky opened, sprinkled with brilliant white stars. Gellert's eyes were drawn to Draco, the Heavenly Dragon, and then to Heracles, the greatest hero of all, who had performed twelve miraculous tasks and become a god. It was an auspicious sign, indicating that the time was ripe for new beginnings, although Gellert was not inclined to superstition and had no faith in omens and portents.

He walked slowly across the field, feeling the grass tickling his bare feet, inhaling the sweet scent of the breeze. He fell into a trance, a dream-like state halfway between sleeping and waking, and felt the magic expanding to fill the space around him, uncoiling from his body, spreading across the fields like a living thing, a web of power winding across the ground, burrowing down into the earth, climbing high into the sky. In a flash, the universe opened around him. He felt the twitching of every blade of grass, the fluttering of each moth's tiny wings, the worms and blind things crawling deep under the ground, the bats and silent owls winging through the sky, the trees rooted deep in the earth, dreaming their slow arboreal dreams. He felt the earth moving around him as it turned below the vault of heaven, and he felt the diamond-bright stars tumbling from the stream of the Milky Way as it flowed through the oblivion of space.

He stood for a while - it might have been a minute, it might have been eternity, he did not know - savouring the wholeness, the feeling of being connected to everything. For an instant he was old as the mountains, free as the wind, solid as the earth, insubstantial as a cloud, empty as the sky. His flesh and blood faded away, leaving nothing but his essence, raw magic, pure and unfettered. He, Gellert Grindelwald, disappeared, and he became a raw force of nature, a current of energy, a fundamental particle borne on the elemental currents of the universe. He was complete. He was content.

Afterwards the magic retreated into his body and Gellert returned to himself, but he was not quite the same as before. His thoughts were clearer now, his mind more peaceful. The darkness inside him had taken its fill, drinking deeply from the energy of the universe, and its appetite for power was satiated for the moment. It drowsed within him, coiled up and growing in strength, and when it next awoke it would be hungrier still...

Gellert began to walk again, idly, with no particular direction in mind. He noticed small, dark shapes moving slowly over the grassy turf, and when he drew close to one he saw that it was a hare. The creature paused when it saw him, rising up on its hind legs, its long floppy ears twisting this way and that, its little nose twitching as it watched him for any hint of danger. Gellert was drawn to its beauty and innocence, as it stared at him nervously from the corners of its large, dark eyes. Its long legs were so perfectly designed. He had seen hares running across the fields in his homeland with such power and grace. What a delicate, gentle little creature it was.

As Gellert raised his wand, the hare turned and raced away across the grass.

_"Avada Kedavra."_

Fast as the little creature ran, it could not outrun the shadow of death, flying on the wings of Gellert's spell. Unfortunately the hare was too far away for Gellert to see its desperation, but he imagined the terror in its eyes, and the thought excited him. At last the green jet of light struck its target and the hare fell to the ground, dead.

He moved close to the body and stared at it hungrily, intently. The hare was stretched out in an unnatural position, its limbs twisted together in its death throes. It was a pathetic sight. He was aroused by it, by the sight of life becoming death, the delicate innocence become broken and corrupt, the eyes that once shone with timid energy now empty and blank. The whole corpse was a mockery, cold and twisted, a cruel parody of the warm, living breathing life that had once inhabited it. Alive, the hare had been the embodiment of speed, grace and life. Yet in a matter of seconds it had become an ugly, grim, offensive thing. What a difference a small spark of life made!

He was fascinated, as always, by the sight of Death. Death was the twin brother of Life. Death walked beside every living thing each day of its existence. Death was the one certainty, the one constant companion, yet everyone fled from Death's embrace. But Death would come for them all in the end. Wouldn't it?

Absentmindedly, his hand went to his chest, where on the skin above his heart he had engraved the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The Peverells had been buried here in Godric's Hollow with their Hallows. Would he find them and become Master of Death?

His eyes returned to the hare. He was regretting killing it now. He should have hurt it first, trapped it and tortured it and seen the pain in its eyes. That would have been more... satisfying, but it was too late for that. He waved his wand, and the hare's body crumbled into dust and blew away in the wind, as though it had never been. He was bored with hares now, and he wanted more interesting prey.

His eyes drifted over to the eastern side of the village, where the houses of the Muggles would have been visible if it were daytime. Perhaps he could find some more entertainment over there. After all, Muggles were hardly more than animals. He would have to be careful, though, because he wanted to stay in Godric's Hollow for as long as it took to research the Hallows and work on the Dumbledore boy, and he couldn't afford to bring suspicion on himself.

In Germany, the Muggle villagers had become suspicious when several of their more attractive daughters, and a few of their sons and babies, had disappeared without a trace. That had caused problems for Gellert. He had reasoned that since the Muggles were breeding like rats and taking over the world, he was doing them a favour by taking some of their children off their hands and helping them control their population. It wasn't as though they could afford to feed all those kids anyway. After all, the Muggle villages were so poor. Gellert could solve any problems the Muggles caused for him, but not without attracting unwanted attention from wizards, who were more difficult to deal with.

He was feeling excited and tense, both in mind and body. The magic surged within him, pumping through his veins, beating an insistent rhythm in his head. The darkness flowing through him and around him, the sight of the hare falling in a blaze of green light, its little form consumed with death, the power of life and destruction pulsing in the wand in his hand, all of these aroused feelings of lust and desire deep within him. He wanted, needed a way to release his urges. The urge to destroy, corrupt, break, and wield power over someone filled him.

His feet flew over the grass as he headed for the Muggle houses.


	8. An Appointment and a Disappointment

Aberforth slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes. Sunlight was pouring into the room from the open window and Ariana was no longer beside him, which meant he'd overslept. Leaping out of bed, he raced down the stairs, panic stirring in his chest. If Ariana had wandered off again... if she'd hurt herself, or done something to draw attention to herself, they would both be in serious trouble. It was Aberforth's job to watch her. If Albus found out that Ariana had been out of the house unsupervised, he would lock her up in her room again and never let her out...

As he reached the bottom of the staircase, the sudden scent of hot food made his stomach rumble. Puzzled, he entered the dining room, and saw Ariana sitting at the dining table with a big smile on her face. The table had been covered with a fresh white tablecloth and spread with scones, pancakes, buns, butter, honey, jam and cream. Someone had placed a small jar of wildflowers in the centre of the table.

Just then, Albus bustled in from the kitchen holding a large plate stacked with steaming pancakes. He nodded when he saw Aberforth.

"Good morning, Abe," he said cheerfully. "Joining us for breakfast? There's plenty for everyone." Offering a pancake to Ariana, he said, "Go on, have another one. I made them just for you."

Silently, looking up at Albus with awe and admiration in her eyes, Ariana accepted the pancake as though it were made of pure gold. As always, it pained Aberforth to see his sister staring at Albus as though he were some kind of hero, when Albus didn't even care about her. She would never look at Aberforth that way.

"Well?" said Albus. "Don't just stand there, have a seat."

Grudgingly, Aberforth sat himself on the chair beside Ariana and took the plate Albus gave him.

"Did you make breakfast?" he asked, curious. It had been a while since Albus had last cooked for them, let alone made breakfast at this time of the morning. Usually he wouldn't show himself until just before noon.

"Yes," said Albus. He looked different today, like he was in a rare good mood. His blue eyes, which had been dull with grief since Mother's death, were now sparkling with some of their old light. His face was bright and lively and a little flushed. He was even smiling and being unusually talkative. "Actually, I'm glad you came down when you did. I've got to pop off in a few minutes. Just got an owl from Bathilda asking if I would take her great-nephew Gellert around town, show him where things are, help him get to know the place a bit. I'm supposed to meet him at eight, so I'll be leaving soon."

Aberforth noticed that Albus was wearing his best blue coat over a smart black dress robe. A sky blue scarf was wrapped fetchingly around his neck, and a small dark blue cap was perched on his head.

"Aren't you overdressed for a morning walk?" Aberforth asked.

Albus hesitated for a moment. "Well, it doesn't hurt to give visitors a good impression," he said. "We don't want them thinking we're country slobs. If you have no further objections, I'll be off then."

Before he left, he examined his reflection critically in the mirror, smoothed down his coat and rearranged his scarf.

When the front door closed behind him, Ariana put down her knife and said, with a miserable expression, "I don't want Albus to go out. I'm scared."

"Scared?" said Aberforth. "Of what?"

"I saw the dog again in my dream last night."

Aberforth sighed, moved closer to Ariana and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Ari. You're just imagining things. We all have bad dreams."

Ariana shook her head forcefully. "It was real. It's coming, closer than ever now. It's already in Godric's Hollow. I could see its eyes burning and its teeth, so big and sharp, its fur..."

"Well, I won't let any Grim or anything else hurt you. All right?"

Ariana turned away. "But last night, it wasn't coming for me. It was coming for Albus."

* * *

><p>As Albus walked briskly up the path towards the village square, he reflected on the strange owl he had received from Bathilda earlier that morning.<p>

_Dear Albus,_

_If it is not too much trouble, do you think you could show Gellert around our village this morning? I know he will be bored if he is cooped up at home with me all day. I would take him out myself, but I am not as spry as I used to be, and I know he will enjoy himself more with someone closer to his own age. He appreciated your company last night and he is looking forward to seeing you again._

_Truth be told, Albus, things are not going well between Gellert and myself. I do not mind telling you this because our families have been close for some time. Gellert and I had an argument last night. I am worried about him. His father died some time ago and his mother is not well, so he has grown up mostly alone. I have always been close to him, but if you had seen him last night... I fear we are growing apart. He has fallen into bad company, and I believe he is going down a bad path._

_Being talented and intelligent from a young age has made him arrogant, with no respect for anyone. But I know there is much goodness in him, if only someone could reach him, make a connection with him. I think you might be that person, Albus. Gellert respects you as he has never respected anyone else. He thinks of you as an equal. Yet you are so different from him; you are kind, considerate, dutiful and respectful to everyone._

_Gellert needs a positive influence in his life, and you are the most upstanding young man I know. I hope you and Gellert will be friends, and that each of you will benefit from the other._

That letter had left Albus with mixed feelings. He was excited at the prospect of seeing Gellert again and spending more time with him, but he was disturbed at the things Bathilda had written. What did she mean by saying that Gellert had fallen into bad company, was going down a bad path? Albus tried to reconcile that image with the young man he had met last night, and it just didn't seem to fit. Gellert had been only too charming, friendly and warm, a wonderful speaker, the picture of good manners. On the other hand, he had voiced some rather prejudiced views. Perhaps that was what Bathilda meant.

"Hey!"

Albus glanced up and saw Gellert standing by the carriage stop, waving. He smiled at Albus and jogged over, thrusting his hands into his pockets, his breath misting slightly in the air. He looked breathtaking in the early morning sunlight. He was wearing a long green coat and a matching scarf. His golden hair shone in the sun and his eyes were full of fire, by turns mischievous and intense.

"Good morning," he said, offering a hand to Albus. "I am glad you are here."

"Guten morgen," Albus replied, shaking Gellert's hand.

"Ah! You speak German." Gellert looked delighted. "Good, good. I am happy." He released Albus' hand and looked around at the mostly empty square, framed by fields of wildflowers. "You have nice weather here. I like it. I may have to remove my coat after." Clapping his hands together, he rubbed them excitedly. "Where shall we be going now? I have not been to England from when I was a little boy. I want to see what kind of place your village is."

"Well," said Albus apologetically, "try not to get too enthusiastic, this isn't London or anything. Godric's Hollow is a small place and we don't have a great deal of excitement around here."

"Of course," said Gellert. "But I am sure that wherever we go, I will have an interesting time so long as the famous Dumbledore is with me." He slipped his arm through Albus' and began to walk, pulling Albus along. "And you also will have an interesting time, because I am with you."

The touch of Gellert's arm, the closeness of his body, sent shivers through Albus' whole being.

"Well," Albus said, trying to keep a clear head, "why don't we head for the south side of the square first. I can show you where the post office and some of the shops are. It's a shame it's Monday. Yesterday there would have been the Sunday market. There'll be a few stalls open today still, but nothing special."

"Is there not a big street in London, Diagon Alley, where all the important shops are? Shall we go there later in this morning?"

"Well, yes, Diagon Alley is the best England has to offer. But it's far away..."

"And? You can Apparate, can't you?"

"Well, yes, I suppose I can. It's just that I didn't realise you wanted to go so far... your great-aunt told me you wanted to see the village. Perhaps we'd better check with her first."

Gellert scoffed. "Are we children, needing her permission? If we want to go, let us go. But let's first see the village. I will be staying here for a while and I want to know it."

Their first stop was the post office, which was owned by the Bannisters. Albus pushed open the front door and entered to the sound of a tinkling bell. Mrs Bannister usually sat behind the counter, but today it was her eldest daughter, Sharon, a pretty girl with brown hair and a timid manner who liked wearing bright, flowery dresses and had a soft spot for Albus (like most of the girls in Godric's Hollow). She glanced up and smiled when she saw Albus, before her gaze slid to Gellert and her eyes widened.

"Oh!" she said softly.

"Morning, Sharon," said Albus cheerfully.

Sharon was silent, her eyes fixed on Gellert.

"Have you met Professor Bagshot's great-nephew?" Albus said, indicating Gellert. "This is Gellert, Gellert Grindelwald. He's from Germany. Gellert, this is Sharon Bannister. Her family runs the post office."

Gellert smiled and advanced on Sharon.

"How do you do," he said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Sharon seemed to realise that she was gaping like a fish. Flustered, she returned Gellert's handshake. Albus felt sorry for her, remembering how he'd been affected the first time he'd seen Gellert.

"Pleased to meet you," she managed at last. "So you're staying here? Lovely, lovely."

"I'm just showing him around the village," Albus put in. "I thought we'd start here, since the post office is one of the most important buildings in town." To Gellert, he continued, "Most people in the village don't have their own owls. It's cheaper to use one of the post office owls for a few Knuts. Keeping your own owl takes a lot of work, what with the feeding and the keeping it clean and letting it out to fly."

"My great-aunt has her own owl," Gellert said.

"Yes, but she has a house-elf to do the work for her. Most people don't."

Gellert frowned slightly.

"So, people rely on the post office for letters and parcels from the outside. Sharon and her family are usually the first to hear of any interesting news, isn't that right, Sharon?" Albus nodded at her, but Sharon was too busy staring at Gellert with a silly lovestruck expression on her face to pay attention to what Albus was saying.

_Oh, Gods. I hope that's not what I look like when I'm with him_, Albus thought.

He continued, "And the post office is the only place in Godric's Hollow to get items shipped from the outside. Of course, if you want anything really special, you have to go to Diagon Alley... Anything interesting come in, Sharon?"

"Oh, yes," said Sharon. "Let me show you." She led them to the shelves and began to show them around. "Here's some lovely stationery from London." She took a box of glossy parchment bordered with blue scrollwork from the shelf and pressed it to her face, breathing deeply. "What nice perfume!" she said, passing it to Albus. "And here are some pretty Persian rugs. Would you look at those designs. And these lilies are so beautiful, they're all the way from Japan. Daddy picked them up on a trip to Diagon Alley last week. We've put a preserving charm on them, but they won't last long."

"How much do those lilies cost?" Gellert asked. "I need a beautiful flower to give to a beautiful girl."

"Oh!" said Sharon, and a little blush entered her cheeks. "She must be a very lucky girl. Let me see now, it's six Sickles for a flower."

"Six Sickles for one flower!" Albus exclaimed. "My word!" But Gellert paid and took the flower anyway, leaving Albus to wonder, miserably and jealously, just who this 'beautiful girl' was.

He didn't have to wonder long, because as they were leaving the shop, Gellert suddenly made a little bow and presented the flower he'd bought to Sharon.

"A rare flower for a rare flower," he said, kissing her hand before taking his leave. As they departed, Sharon was left standing stock still, with her whole face red, looking like she'd been struck by lightning.

"I like her," said Gellert, as they resumed their walk through the square, arm in arm again. "I like her eyes. They are big and brown. She reminds me of a hare. Does she remind you of a hare?" He looked at Albus' bemused expression and laughed, as if enjoying a private joke.

_And you remind me of a wolf,_ Albus thought._ And everyone knows what wolves do to hares._

"So tell me," Gellert continued, "is this whole village filled with many pretty girls? I have never been with an English girl before. Well... not really. Not a real, proper wizarding girl."

Albus felt like a part of him was dying. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he told himself. _You never learn, do you? How could you ever think that Gellert would be interested in you? He only likes girls._ Crushed, he tried to pull away from Gellert, but Gellert only held onto him tighter.

"There are some pretty girls here," Albus managed eventually. This subject made him uncomfortable. "What do you mean, 'a real, proper wizarding girl'? Have you had a Muggle girlfriend?"

"Don't be silly," said Gellert, "and don't change the subject. What are English girls like?"

"Like?" Albus was all but squirming now. "Nice enough, I suppose."

"Nice enough?" Gellert chuckled and gave him an incredulous look. "Is that it? Oh, you are teasing me. Come now, tell me something interesting about them. "

"Like what?"

"Are they easy?"

"Easy? How do you mean?"

"Easy. To get into bed. Or on the floor. Or in a field, or anywhere, it doesn't matter, does it?" Gellert grinned and nudged Albus in the ribs.

Albus blushed furiously.

"Uh," he said. "I've never dated, so I'm probably not the best person to ask."

"Never dated? But my great-aunt said you are popular with the ladies."

"Well, a little... but I never had time for romance, what with my studies and all..."

"Oh. But I am sure that will change soon. I have noticed the way the girls here look at you."

"They used to look at me. But when you're standing next to me, they only have eyes for you."

It was true. The pair of them attracted many curious looks as they walked through the village, and Albus knew that the longest and most admiring glances were directed at Gellert. He was taller, better looking and had a certain natural charisma that Albus would never have. You could tell that Gellert was confident and comfortable in his own skin, whereas Albus walked with his shoulders hunched and his head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone.

The scene from the post office repeated itself a number of times as they visited the general store and a few other shops. Albus would introduce Gellert, who would then become the centre of attention, flirting shamelessly with the younger women and a few of the older ones, charming the petticoats off them, before bidding them farewell, leaving a trail of bruised and longing hearts in his wake.

"You shouldn't have done that," Albus said, as they left the bakery.

"Done what?" asked Gellert, who was chewing on a croissant, which came from the paper bag full of pastries that a breathless Mrs Gilsham had thrust upon him.

"You know. Spoken to Mrs Gilsham like that, with your hand on her shoulder. She's married, you know. I don't suppose her husband was very happy."

"Perhaps not, but she was. Her dried up old husband doesn't appreciate her. She is a fine woman. I like older women, not the ugly ones that are fat and wrinkled and lumpy, but she is still good looking and I bet she's experienced. They appreciate a younger man who knows what to do with them."

"Gellert! She's married!"

Gellert gave Albus a sly, wicked grin.

"So what? She's the one who wants me to taste her cupcakes."

"Gellert!"

Their last stop in the village tour was the Anglican Magian temple, or church, depending on whom you asked. During the rule of the Romans, the Emperor had decreed that only Christian houses of worship were allowed to call themselves churches, while pagan places of worship would have to settle for the name of temples. Roman rule had long since passed, however, and now there was debate among the Magians over whether they should call their holy places temples or churches. The name 'temple' had stuck among the general population, but the clergy were encouraging the use of 'church' to signify that their religion was just as worthy of recognition as the Christians'.

The temple was a beautiful old building, very large, made of grey stone and situated on the edge of the village, within the outskirts of the woods. This was no accident. The British Magians believed that trees were sacred, because good spirits lived inside them. In fact, before the Romans had come and taught them to build churches of stone, the Magians had worshipped outdoors in natural settings like groves of trees, riverbanks and mountaintops.

"This temple is an interesting blend of Anglo-Saxon and Roman architecture," Albus said dully. Although this was a subject he was normally keen on, he was still feeling deflated from the revelation that Gellert would never be interested in him, and part of him just wanted the whole day to be over so he could crawl back into his study and never come out. But he had promised to show Gellert around, and Albus Dumbledore kept his promises. "Firstly, notice that the temple is made of stone. That's Roman. In pre-Roman times a temple, like a long hall, would have been made mostly of wood. Stonework was used mostly for statues and other objects."

He led Gellert to the great bronze doors and pointed out the carvings engraved on the metal and stone.

"Although the columns are Roman, these are all Anglo-Saxon motifs," Albus said, indicating the pictures of snakes, wolves, men, women, chariots and dogs encircling the outer surface of the temple. "Or rather, I should say that they're British motifs. We can't say that they're purely Anglo-Saxon, because they were at least partly influenced by the neighbouring Celtic and Roman cultures, and vice versa."

"This is interesting," Gellert said. "You have a lot of knowledge about English culture. This is good. Many young people these days are forgetting about where we come from. We need to protect our history from those who want to destroy us." He paused. "Are you well, Albus? You seem a little sad."

"What? No, I'm fine."

"You were much happier when I met you in this morning." Gellert moved closer to Albus and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Did I do something, say something to make you upset?"

"No." Albus shrugged off Gellert's hand and stepped through the doors, into the temple. _You didn't do anything,_ he thought,_ except make it clear that you'll never be interested in me. Not in the way that I'm interested in you._


	9. The Serpent

Beyond the bronze doors of the temple was a long hall bounded by high stone walls, filled with rows of wooden benches. The walls were set with stained glass images of gods, saints and martyrs, and reached all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. At the far end of the hall stood the altar, and behind it, a circular bronze portal engraved with Woden's two crows, leading to the inner sanctum of the temple.

The smell of incense lingered in the air, and the sound of muted voices raised in hymn seemed to come from the walls themselves. As it was Monday morning, the place was empty but for a few especially devout villagers and the priestess, Sister Claennis.

Being inside the temple usually gave Albus a deep sense of peace. In here, the sights and sounds of the outside world were locked away. All that remained were the gentle hymns, rolling over the mind like a soothing tide, washing away all cares and worries, the beautiful artwork shining from the walls, the musky smell of incense. The temple was its own little world of light and wonder, sealed off from the ugly and harsh realities outside. But although he felt calmer on the surface, Albus did not feel very peaceful today. He could not stop thinking about Gellert, kicking himself for falling for him. There was a sick churning in his gut.

Gellert walked past Albus and looked around, taking in the sights.

"A beautiful building," Gellert said. "May we enter the grove?"

"Yes," said Albus softly.

With Sister Claennis' permission, they passed through the the circular bronze door engraved with ravens. Inside was a small grove of huge, gnarled old trees, stretching their limbs high into the open sky. From their branches hung long strings tied with mysterious objects: round stones, discs of metal and little dolls. It was oddly hushed, no sound except for the whispering of the wind through the leaves and the faint murmur of hymns.

The two boys knelt before the trees, drawing out their wands and laying them on the soil.

"The sacred trees," Gellert said. "Ash, holly, oak, pine, fir and many others besides. Inside their veins flows the magic, a gift from the gods. Inside our veins there is magic also. From the wood we make our wands, a gift from the trees. The power inside the wand joins the power inside the wizard. Together, forever. As one."

Albus was silent. Then he said, "Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field the Lord God had made. And he said to the woman, 'For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.' And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof and did eat, and gave also to her husband with her. And he did eat. And both of their eyes were opened."

Sllowly, Albus reached out and laid the tips of his fingers on his wand. As his skin made contact with the wood, he felt a jolt of some powerful energy flowing up the wand into his fingers, like lightning. In a flash the room spun around him and disappeared...

_"Gellert! Gellert!" Annabel danced around the room, on the tips of her toes like a ballerina. "Bet you don't know what I've got."_

_"Go away," Albus growled. "I'm busy." _His voice came out in some foreign language, strange and harsh, yet somehow he understood it.

_"Play with me. Play with me or I'll tell Papa that you hit me."_

_At the mention of Papa, his heart began pounding in fear. Fear quickly turned to rage at the sight of the stupid little girl in front of him. He couldn't hurt Papa, but he could hurt Annabel. How dare she threaten him? He ought to curse her into oblivion right now._

_"I'm warning you, you little shit," he said. "If you bother me, I'll kill you."_

_"You wouldn't dare." She stuck out her tongue at him. "If you do anything to me, Papa will beat you."_

_"He's not here now, is he? _Crucio!_"_

_Annabel screamed at the top of her lungs, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain._

_Albus watched her with intense delight. The sight of her stupid little body, which had always been a source of irritation to him, flopping and jerking around on the floor like a rag doll, gave him great satisfaction. He wanted to go even further, increase the flow of magic until her little body broke under the pressure, and she died. The thought excited him._

* * *

><p><em> Albus lay under the covers, whimpering and trembling, his body aching all over. He was covered in cuts and bruises from the physical and magical blows his father had dealt him. The worst part had been the Cruciatus Curse, but the others had been nearly as bad. At least the Cruciatus Curse didn't break the skin...<em>

_He hated Papa. His blood boiled with rage at the thought of the big man with the terrible temper. He wanted to kill the bastard. He wanted to torture him, see the pain in his eyes, make him crawl and beg for mercy before the finishing blow. Let _him _know what it felt like to be afraid and powerless. Albus could do it, he was almost as strong as his father now. One day he would just snap, pull out his wand and kill the mad fucker, and the little bitch too. He would leave his mother alive. She was the only one who had ever been kind to him. _

Gellert...

_Albus stiffened. A voice? How did it know his name? This must be one of Papa's tricks. Albus would ignore it, and it would go away._

Gellert... come to me...

_The voice was coming from the case where Papa kept his wand. Albus wasn't allowed to touch that case. He had taken Papa's wand out and played with it once, which had earned him the worst beating of his life. He wouldn't do it again._

I can help you... use me...

_Slowly, he slid out of the bed and walked towards the glass case, as if in a dream._

_"Are you Papa's wand?" he said._

Take me! Oh, take me, touch me, join your power to mine...

_"But you belong to Papa..."_

I did. But you are much stronger than him, more worthy of holding me. Take my power, and let me take yours in turn. We will feed on each other, grow stronger. Take me now. Kill your father and I will be yours. Together we can do whatever you want. I will kill your enemies, make your dreams come true, release the power sleeping inside you. Take me!

_Albus reached out, fingers trembling. He slipped open the glass case and gingerly lowered his fingers inside. He touched the wand..._

"Albus?"

He was back in the grove beside Gellert, kneeling with his fingers pressed to the wand. Sweat beaded his face, his heart was pounding in his chest and he was breathing heavily.

"Albus? Are you all right?" Gellert repeated, looking concerned. He had moved closer to Albus."You seemed disturbed. I thought the ghosts were showing you a vision."

"I - I'm fine," Albus said. He didn't know what had happened. His mind was still reeling from the things he had seen and heard. His mouth was dry. He swallowed.

"What was that you said earlier? About the tree and the knowledge of good and evil. It was very beautiful."

"Oh, that," said Albus, still coming to grips with his surroundings. "It was just a verse from the Bible."

"Which Bible?"

"The Christian one."

There was a pause. Then -

_Crack! _Gellert's fist crashed into the side of Albus' head, sending him sprawling into the ground, his face pressing into the musty soil.

"You dare... how do you dare... in this holy place... where our ancestors were killed by Christian dogs!"

Slowly, Albus sat up, rubbing the side of his head. When he opened his eyes, he saw Gellert staring back at him with a look of pure madness. Gone was the cheerful, handsome face of Gellert Grindelwald, twisted beyond recognition. Something else was looking at Albus, some demon possessing Gellert's features, a creature of pure malice and hatred.

Shocked and frightened, Albus leapt to his feet and stumbled backwards.

"Albus, wait." Gellert rose and grabbed Albus' wrists, pulling Albus back towards him.

"Let me go," Albus said, twisting and trying to pull away. Tears had sprung to his eyes when Gellert had punched him, and now they escaped and trickled down his cheeks. It was too much, all of it. He had been so looking forward to seeing Gellert this morning, he'd been in love with him, but then he'd found out that Gellert wasn't interested in him, and now he had been struck in the face by the man of his dreams. It was too much to take in at once.

"I am sorry," Gellert said. "I am so, very sorry. So much. Please, Albus. I didn't mean this." Still gripping Albus' hands despite his best efforts to twist away, Gellert walked forward, pushing Albus back, sending him stumbling backwards until he was pressed up against a tree trunk.

"Albus, listen to me! I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean this. You must forgive me," Gellert insisted, his face barely two inches from Albus', his breath hot on Albus' mouth.

Albus turned his face away. Most of his mind was still numb from shock, but a new feeling was stirring inside him now. He felt himself growing hard at the closeness of Gellert's body, the touch of Gellert's hands on his wrists, Gellert's beautiful face so close to his own, Gellert's eyes burning with emotion. Albus wanted to be kissed right then and there, more than anything. He wanted Gellert so badly, his mind was going blank. All he could think of was the taste of Gellert's lips on his, Gellert's tongue inside his mouth. What would Gellert's body feel like, pressed against his... oh, gods, it would be so good...

"Albus?" Gellert shook him slightly, moving his face closer. "Albus, speak to me."

Albus didn't know what came over him. In a moment of madness, he turned his head and kissed Gellert directly on the mouth. For one blissful instant, Albus knew nothing except the sensation of soft lips and the taste of Gellert Grindelwald. It was perfect, the happiest thing that had ever happened to him. If he died at that moment, he would die in peace.

Gellert broke away and stared at Albus with revulsion and contempt in his eyes.

"Mein Gott," he said incredulously. "You are a _queer._"

Albus couldn't take it. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment and disgust in Gellert's face. He couldn't handle the hatred in the word Gellert used, the word that had been spat in Albus' direction since he was a child. He thought his heart would break. He turned and ran out of the grove, out of the temple, his feet pounding against the ground. He kept on running with his head down, trying to leave behind the shame and hopelessness and pain of all that had happened to him. He didn't stop until he had run out of breath, and found himself deep in the graveyard beside the temple.

* * *

><p>In the temple grove, Gellert stood for a few moments, deep in thought. Then a broad smile spread across his face and he began to laugh.<p>

"So the Dumbledore boy is a queer! Perhaps the gods are watching me after all. I wanted a way to control him, and he just now gave himself to me. Could anything be more perfect than this? Maybe it was meant to be."

Shaking his head, he retrieved his wand from the ground, said a brief prayer of thanks, and walked out of the grove.

* * *

><p>Albus lay face down on a stone slab, resting his head on his arms. His tears had run out, and he felt hollow and empty now, like the inside of him had been scoured clean by the salt of his tears. It was a good feeling, not caring about anything, just lying there and being silent. It was strange. This morning, all the colours had seemed brighter and fresher than ever, but now everything was grey and misty. It was good, though. He didn't want to feel anything ever again.<p>

"Albus." Someone touched him on the shoulder. Albus rolled over and sat up, and Gellert sat down beside him on the stone slab.

"I have treated you very badly, Albus. You must be angry at me."

Albus was silent, his head bowed.

_How could anyone be angry with you? How could anyone be angry with perfection? You're like an angel that fell from heaven. This world isn't good enough for you._

_Can a swallow be angry with the sky? Sometimes the sky is calm, sometimes it storms, but either way, without it the swallow is nothing._

_Can a boat be angry with the ocean? Can a flower be angry with the sun? Can a worshipper be angry with his God?_

_Could I ever be angry with you?_

"Gellert..." said Albus. "That word you called me. I don't like it. It hurts."

"It was wrong for me to say that about you. I am sorry." Gellert moved closer to Albus, slipped an arm around his shoulders. He murmured in Albus' ear, his voice sending shivers down Albus' back, "Do you remember what I told you last night? About how you are a rare and precious soul, and I need you to help me? Together we can do some amazing things, I said. This is still true. This is how I feel about you, Albus. Do you accept my apology?"

More tears came unbidden to Albus' eyes. "Gellert," he whispered, "you don't have to apologise to me. Never... I... before I met you, I... my life was empty... I..."

"You are such a gentleman, Albus." Gellert kissed him, gently at first, on the side of his cheek, on his eye, his lips catching Albus' tears, then lower down, trailing kisses all the way along Albus' jawline. He lifted a hand to Albus' face and turned it, kissing him deeply on the mouth, pressing his lips onto Albus', forcing them apart with his tongue. Both his hands were on Albus' face now, and he slid his fingers through Albus' hair...

Albus was lost. He felt himself dissolving, melting away. But suddenly, he remembered the look on Gellert's face, the tone of his voice as he'd said _queer, _and he pulled back.

"I'm sorry," he said. Sliding off the marble tomb, he ran out of the graveyard as fast as his legs could carry him.

* * *

><p>A soft tapping on the door startled Mrs Gilsham as she wiped flour and crumbs off the counter.<p>

"We're closed," she called. Who could be knocking at this time? She turned to make sure that the ovens were switched off, and when she turned back, the boy was in the room.

"Oh!" she said. "How did you get in? It's Gellert, isn't it?"

He was so tall and handsome. His golden hair gleamed in the firelight as he stepped closer towards her.

"I need something from the back room," he said.

"Ah. You see, we're closed at the moment. Could it wait 'til tomorrow?"

"I need something from the back room," he repeated.

Slowly, Mrs Gilsham undid her apron and hung it beside the oven. She hesitated for a second before she walked slowly and deliberately, like a sleepwalker, into the back room. After a moment she heard the door close behind her and lock with a click.

"My husband is upstairs," she said, as she turned to face him.

"I do not care." He unbuttoned his coat and allowed it to fall to the floor. He stripped off his scarf, robe, socks and underwear and threw them, one after another, to the ground. Standing there naked, he was magnificent, flawless. Mrs Gilsham stared at him hungrily, drinking in the sight of every inch of his body. She had never seen such perfection. He almost looked more divine than human.

His mane of golden hair was tousled and rumpled, hanging down around his face in long wisps. His face was long and intelligent, almost wolfish looking, with hard blue eyes, a long, straight nose and a strong chin. His shoulders were broad, his arms well-muscled and his chest sculpted. His stomach was flat, his thighs and calves bulging. When he moved, muscles swelled and contracted in his arms and legs, rippled in graceful paths under the skin of his stomach, tightened in the smooth curves of his buttocks.

A light, creamy golden tan suffused his whole skin, as though he was accustomed to sunbathing. Also covering his body was a fine down of golden hairs, so light they were invisible except when they caught the firelight, or where they gathered into thicker growths: around his nipples, under his armpits, on his legs, in the narrow trail descending from his chest, through his navel, right down to the mat of golden pubic hair. His cock was erect and longer and thicker than her husband's.

He strode towards her, reaching her in three strides. "Kneel," he said.

"Pardon?"

"Kneel. On the floor." He placed a hand on her shoulder and pushed down, forcing her to her knees...

_[**A/N:** The following few paragraphs were sexually explicit. I decided to remove them in case they violated guidelines. I will probably upload them elsewhere.]_

Afterwards she lay spent and exhausted on the floor, aching all over, but it was a good ache. Without a word, Gellert turned and walked over to pick up his clothes from where he'd dropped them. She admired the play of the firelight on his body as he walked, the choreography of muscles in his buttocks and legs and the way his manhood swung as he squatted to reach for his clothes.

"Gellert?"

He ignored her, pulled on his underwear and wriggled into his robe.

"Gellert?"

He pulled on one sock after the other.

"Gellert? Will you come back?"

He turned and smirked at her.

"What, come back? To a saggy old cow like you?" He scoffed as he wrapped the scarf around his neck. "You are lucky. Usually I don't fuck any girl more than once. I only came to you because you must have been nice looking when you were young. To tell the truth, your pussy was so loose and dry, it was like fucking an old sock."

He turned and walked away. Before he left, he grabbed a pastry from a tray by the door.

"I am taking this," he said. "These are the only muffins in this shop worth having. At least you can still cook. And you owe me some food, since I fed you so much. You will be coughing up my sperm for weeks."

He left, shutting the door behind him.

Mrs Gilsham lay on the floor on the verge of tears. She had never felt so cheap, used and humiliated in her life. She should have known a man like that was too good to be true. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

But as she remembered the sight of Gellert's naked body, how mouthwatering he had looked in the firelight, how he had filled her up from the inside, the sweet taste and the musky scent of him, the pleasure he had given her besides the pain, she realised that she didn't regret what she had done. She would treasure the memory for the rest of her life.

* * *

><p><em>Tap. Tap. Tap.<em>

Sharon Bannister stirred and sat up, the covers falling from her as she rose from her bed. She had been having the strangest dream. Something was tapping at her window.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

It was no dream. Something really was tapping at her window. She slid out of bed and made her way over. Opening the window softly, she gazed out into the street.

Someone was standing right beneath the window. With a shock of pleasure, she realised it was that wonderful boy she had met that morning in the post office, Bathilda's great-nephew. What was his name? Gareth? No, something foreign. Gellert.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered down to him. Suddenly she realised how awful she must look, having just gotten out of bed. Her hair was a mess! She couldn't let him see her like this. She backed away a little, hoping that her hair was in shadow.

"Is anyone else in your room?" Gellert whispered.

"No."

Swiftly and silently, Gellert leapt from the street, seeming to walk straight up the wall, slid through her window and entered the room.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

"Oh, Sharon," Gellert whispered. He looked so handsome in the moonlight. It was incredible, he looked like a fairy prince from one of those adventure stories. And his accent was so interesting and foreign.

"I had to see you again. Ever since I saw you in this morning, I have not been able to stop thinking about you. You are the most beautiful, wonderful girl I have ever seen. I brought these for you." He produced a bunch of roses, glowing purest silver and so delicate they looked as though they had been spun from moonshine.

Sharon gasped. "Where did you get those? I've never seen flowers like that before."

"I made them. Especially for you."

"Oh, Gellert. They're wonderful! But I don't know if you should be here. I, I'm not dressed or anything. My hair's a mess..."

"Nonsense," Gellert whispered, brushing a stray curl from her face. "You are lovely. So lovely..."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

Hi everyone. A few things I want to say.

Firstly, you probably notice that this chapter seems to be heading in a different direction. It contains a sex scene, which I'm nervous about because I'm bad at writing them. But as with all kinds of writing, you can only get better with practice. I'm not sure I'm happy with the tone of the chapter. If it works, there will be a few more future chapters like it, more mature and graphic. But the majority of the story will explore Albus and Gellert's emotional relationship and friendship, although sex is of course important. For example, you can't understand (my AU) Gellert without understanding his sexuality. That doesn't mean I have to show all the scenes graphically, but I think the sex scene here sheds light on Gellert's character rather than being gratuitous.

Secondly, thanks to the most recent reviews: Kathy, Arpie and anonymous. I disapprove of writers bribing or begging for reviews, but I have to say they do make me update more quickly. I'm in a pretty bad situation at the moment, with exam stress, and I've had problems with chronic depression, so writing this story is a release for me to stop me from going mad. It's hard to feel inspired to write when studies and health problems are sapping your energy, so people reviewing and letting me know they're enjoying the story and looking forward to an update is a good motivator for me. Thanks everyone. Kathy, your review was especially kind and encouraging, so an extra special thank you.

The Bad News: My semester has been extended for two or three more weeks. I can't promise regular updates, or even any updates, until that time is over. I will try and write as much as I can, but if I can't, I might just have to leave you guys on a cliffhanger. Sorry. The good news is I'll definitely update more frequently after my exams are over. Until then, take care.


	10. Grey Dreams

Albus didn't leave the house for the next four days. He spent all his time in either his study or his bedroom, scribbling notes, sleeping or lying in bed staring at nothing, replaying the events of the last couple of days in his head. When he'd first met Gellert, he'd thought that his life was finally heading in a new direction, that he'd finally found his soulmate. Gellert was perfect in every way. But now all the light had gone out of Albus' life again, leaving him even emptier and deader inside than he'd been before.

When Albus slept, his dreams were strange and troubled. He dreamed of Gellert's lips on his and the touch of Gellert's skin, but there were other images in the dreams that couldn't have been from Albus' memory. He dreamed that he was a little boy who hated his father and sister, full of pain and and rage, unable to deal with it except by taking it out on others. He saw himself in the woods, killing animals with his wand, tearing their bodies apart, and although part of him was sickened and horrified at what he was doing, another part of him was excited, ecstatic. He never felt so alive as when he was in the presence of death. In a gloomy forest, he saw a grove of holy trees with ropes hanging from their branches, and on the ends of the ropes dangled the bodies of animals and humans, their throats slit, their blood dripping onto the ground, making crimson puddles. He could smell the blood, taste it in the back of his throat, and his stomach heaved.

_No, that can't be. Magians don't practice blood sacrifice any more. We stopped doing that hundreds of years ago when the Romans came. _He saw gangs of crows huddled on corpses, tearing at the pale flesh with their beaks. _Cronus. The crow, the god of Time. Grandfather Time, Grandfather Death with his sickle. He comes to harvest the souls of the living for the land of the dead. And he sows the new crop of souls for the next season, the new harvest. Life becomes death and death becomes life. Death eats life and life eats death. Like the wand and the wizard_._ "Take my power and let me take yours in turn. We will feed on each other, grow stronger..."_ _The wand becomes the wizard? Or the wizard becomes the wand? "The wand is a gift from the trees. There is magic in their veins, and magic in ours also." Magic in the veins. In the blood. It comes from the tree. You may eat of the tree of life and death. But the tree of knowledge of good and evil, you may not eat of it. For then you shall become as gods."If we seize the power of the true magic, we can create a perfect society, where all people live together in harmony and peace. There will be no more suffering, no more wickedness, no more death." And will we become as gods, Gellert?_

_Death feeds on life and life feeds on death... This is my body and this is my blood. Eat of my flesh and drink of my blood, and my death will become your life... I die, that you may live forever... everything has a price. Only death will pay the debt of life. Every light casts a shadow. Everything that is born must die. Light and dark, life and death, the wand and the wizard, together as one... joined together... feeding on each other... becoming each other... my powers and yours... my life and yours... touch me, take me... become me..._

He saw pale corpses rising, the walking dead. _Inferi. _They shambled along the ground, their movements jerky and unnatural, their very existence a blasphemy against life. One of them looked directly at him with its blank, dead eyes. He felt his skin crawling with revulsion. He wanted to run away, but he couldn't. He was in the grip of death. _Let me go. Please, Gellert, let me go. I don't want this. It's not worth it. The price is too high. We don't do blood sacrifice any more. If this is true magic, I don't want it. I want to go back to my silly books and my paper spells... _

Albus was kissing Gellert, but Gellert became a skeleton, a corpse. Gellert's flesh sloughed off his body, leaving behind nothing but bones. Albus was kissing a grinning skull. He was kissing death. There was nothing inside Gellert but darkness and corruption, the stench of the grave, fire and brimstone. The darkness came slithering out of Gellert and swallowed Albus up. It fed on him, and he fed on it.

He saw two serpents twining together, a giant dragon biting its own tail. He saw a man who was also a god, tied to a tree, pierced with iron and hung with rope, crows gathering about his dead flesh. But the man came back from the dead, and death only made him stronger. _Woden. The Wise Father. He conquered death, came back from the dead. But he is a god, and we are only human._

He saw a symbol, limned in fire: a line, half covered by a circle, enclosed within a triangle. He saw the symbol written in ink on an old, stained parchment. He saw it burned into his own flesh. He saw it carved in marble, on a tombstone that he recognised.

_That's our cemetery, beside the temple in Godric's Hollow._

He saw the stone sculptures in the cemetery glowing in the moonlight, the angels and spirits keeping watch, and the tall, marble grimhounds. One of the hounds was moving towards him. _A Grim. People are scared of Grims because they are fierce and they represent death, so people call them hellhounds. But in fact grimhounds are holy beasts who guard temples and churches from evil. There is nothing to fear._

The Grim was coming closer and closer. They were no longer in the graveyard but in Albus' bedroom. Albus was lying in bed and the Grim was padding towards him. _A Grim in my own room. That means Death has entered my house. I am going to die soon. _Somehow the thought didn't bother him at all. He felt peaceful, distant, like he was watching everything from a long way away. The Grim reached his bed, leapt on top of him, stood over him with its face directly above his own. He looked up into its long, lupine face, saw its cruel teeth, its red tongue.

And then he saw its eyes. Those cold eyes, burning with sapphire fire, those eyes that haunted him day and night.

"Gellert," he whispered.

Albus woke with a jolt, shivering and sweating in his bed. Sunlight was was filtering through the curtains and birds were singing, so it was probably early morning, but of which day he couldn't say. He had lost track of time these past few days.

What had he been dreaming about? He could never remember. There was just a confused jumble of images and a feeling of dread in his stomach, like something terrible was about to happen. There was something about Gellert... he'd been kissing Gellert until... death and darkness...

He lay in bed for a few more minutes. What was the point of getting up? What was the point of anything? He was trying to remember what the purpose of his life was. Before he'd met Gellert, there must have been something keeping him going. He'd been Head Boy in Hogwarts with many friends and admirers, teachers and students alike. He'd been proud of his achievements. But now it was all ashes in his mouth. His life was empty. It always had been.

He would never find love and happiness like normal people. He would grow into a lonely, bitter old man, jealous of the others around him. How often he had seen a lovestruck couple walking hand in hand, gazing into each other's eyes, laughing and smiling from the pure, simple joy of being in each other's company. He knew that he would never have anything like that, never know the joy of touching another person, never have anyone to love him, to share his life, to be there in the good times and the bad.

It hurt sometimes, this loneliness gnawing inside him. Why couldn't he be a normal person, just like everyone else? Was this how it would be for the rest of his life? People said he was the most brilliant wizard in the world, but what did he have to show for it? This cold, empty room, a stack of books, and the guardianship of an invalid sister and ungrateful brother. Of course his parents had just assumed he would look after his siblings if anything were to happen to them. That was what Albus Dumbledore did: he was responsible, dutiful and dependable. Of course he would put his own life on hold to do whatever needed to be done.

But did it ever occur to them that this wasn't enough for him? Being lauded for his academic skills, being the responsible one, it just wasn't enough. He was a young man, wasn't he? Didn't he have the right to stretch his wings, to see the world, to experience all the pleasures of life while he was young and strong? No, of course not. He must have been born under a bad star. He would never know the good things that other people took for granted.

And what was it Bathilda had said? That all of magical philosophy should be grateful that Albus Dumbledore chose to pour his energy into his studies instead of romance? Well, at least someone was profiting from his misery. He would throw it all away, all his achievements and prizes and praise, all his so-called gifts and talent, for one chance at love. Just one.

Albus closed his eyes and lay still in bed. Shadows grew and twisted on the walls as the darkness gently enfolded him in its wings.

* * *

><p>"Well?" demanded Aberforth. He gestured towards the plate, which Ariana hadn't touched. "What's wrong with it? Do you only eat Albus' cooking now? Mine's not good enough for you, is that it?"<p>

Ariana sat with her face downcast and worried, her hands clasped in her lap.

"I'm worried about Albus," she said.

"There's no need to worry about him. He can take care of himself."

"But he's hardly come out of his room in the past four days."

"He gets like that sometimes. You know how moody he is."

"Yes. But I'm still worried. He looks after us, but he has no one to look after him."

Aberforth snorted. "Firstly, Albus doesn't look after us. Not unless by "look after", you mean "ignore until his conscience bothers him and he spends a bit of time with us, before going back to his room." Secondly, Albus is much older than we are, and much wiser too, as he likes to remind everyone. If we try to help him, he'll only shake his head and say that he can deal with whatever it is on his own. So stop worrying about him and eat your breakfast."

But Ariana wouldn't eat, and she looked like she wanted to cry.

Aberforth sighed. "All right, I'll check on him after breakfast. Satisfied? Will you eat now?"

Ariana nodded and picked up her fork. She had barely eaten one mouthful before there was a loud knocking at the front door. She froze and looked at Aberforth.

Aberforth frowned. "Wait here," he said. "I'll check who it is."

As he walked through the hall, he wondered who it could be. They hardly ever had visitors, except for Bathilda Bagshot, and she certainly wasn't the one knocking so forcefully at their front door. It might be some other neighbour, perhaps to complain about the goats breaking into their field.

Aberforth opened the door. The man standing there was even taller than Albus. He had wavy golden hair and a friendly smile.

"Good morning," he said. "This is the Dumbledore residence, yes?"

"That's right. Who are you?"

"My name is Gellert Grindelwald. I am staying with my great-aunt, Professor Bagshot. I am a friend of Albus'."

Aberforth looked Gellert up and down. _A friend of Albus'? I'll bet you are, pretty boy._

"And you must be Aberforth," Gellert continued, holding out his hand. "How do you do."

As Aberforth shook the proffered hand, he felt the strength in Gellert's grip and the roughness of his palm. _This one is a sportsman or an athlete. Not like Albus. And for all his smiles, he seems dangerous. I don't think I could beat him in a fistfight and I bet he's good with a wand, too. _The thought made him uncomfortable.

"How do you do," Aberforth said gruffly.

"In the last few days I have not seen Albus. I wish to visit with him today."

"He's been unwell. He might not be up to it."

"I am sure he will want to see me."

"Well, all right. I'll just go check on him."

"Perhaps it would be best if I come inside and see him."

"That's not a good idea." For some reason, Aberforth didn't want Gellert to be in the same room as Ariana.

"He will not mind." Gellert pushed past Aberforth on his way inside.

"Wait." Aberforth reached out and grabbed Gellert's arm. As he'd guessed, Gellert's physique was hard and well-developed underneath his coat. Gellert turned and locked eyes with Aberforth. For ten seconds neither of them moved or spoke. Then Aberforth released his grip and Gellert turned and kept walking.

Aberforth lingered at the door for a few moments more, blinking. He didn't quite know what had happened. One moment he'd been staring into Gellert's hard blue eyes, the next he was letting him go. Had Gellert used some kind of magic on him? No, the big blond boy didn't need to use magic. He was extremely self-assured and charismatic, which was a kind of magic of its own.

Returning to his senses, Aberforth hurried through the hallway and arrived in the kitchen on the heels of Gellert, who was staring at Ariana.

"Good morning. You are Dumbledore's sister? Great-aunt Bathilda did not mention about you."

Ariana sat frozen with a fork in her hand, her eyes very wide. She didn't seem to want to look at Gellert directly. When Gellert moved closer to her, she trembled and dropped the fork.

"You are pretty," Gellert said.

"She's very shy around strangers," Aberforth broke in. "Get away from her."

Gellert turned and fixed him with his hard stare. "Where is Albus?"

_None of your business, you bastard. You think you can just barge into my house and do what you like? Get out, get away from me and my family._

Aberforth said, "He's in his bedroom. Upstairs, last door on the right."

"Thank you." Gellert gave Ariana a smile. "Goodbye," he said to her, before he left the dining room and they heard him climbing the stairs.

Aberforth returned to his seat beside Ariana, who looked as shaken as he felt. The Dumbledore family were not used to visitors, especially not those as overpowering as Gellert Grindelwald.

So this was why Albus had been acting strange for the past few days. He had a new_... _friend_. _But why would Albus be with someone like Gellert Grindelwald? The two of them were so different.

"Are you all right?" he asked Ariana, but no matter how he coaxed her, she wouldn't speak for the remainder of breakfast.


	11. The Dark Wood

_According to Night, the Earth's magical field is strongest at the Earth's core and decreases with rising altitude. This is corroborated by Yoreham's law, which states that the strength of a magical field at any given point is inversely proportional to the distance of the point from the source of the field. For this reason, spells cast at higher altitudes require a greater expenditure of magic than spells cast at lower altitudes (the Apfel-Strudel effect)._

_For small spells, the effect is negligible. However, when casting a large number of highly complex, energy intensive spells, the effect becomes very significant. For this reason, the proposed Magical Particle Collider to be built in Geneva, Switzerland, will have to be constructed deep underground. _

As Albus scratched the last few words on the parchment with his quill, there was a knock at the door of his bedroom. He ignored it, dipped the quill in ink and wrote on.

_If we assume that the average intensity of the Earth's magical field at sea level is -_

"Albus."

The quill jerked, splattering ink across the parchment.

"Albus. It is I, Gellert. Open this door."

Taking deep breaths, his heart pounding in his chest, Albus sat with the quill clenched in his hand, squeezing his fist so hard that his nails dug into his palm. Gellert? Here, now? Right outside his door? No. It couldn't be. He wasn't ready to face Gellert, not now, not ever. He wanted to run, to hide, to be anywhere but here. He couldn't bear to see the contempt in Gellert's eyes again, contrasting cruelly with the beauty in Gellert's face and body. It only made Albus confused and hurt.

The knocking became louder, more insistent. "Albus. Open this door now."

"No! Go away. Leave me alone."

"Open, I said. I want to see you."

"I don't want to see you!" Albus shouted. "Never again! Just go away and leave me alone."

There was a pause. Then -

_Bang!_

The bedroom door burst open in a shower of red sparks and grey smoke. Gellert emerged from the haze, took two steps into the room and paused, his wand held loosely by his right side. Somehow he appeared much taller and fiercer than usual.

"I am not accustomed to being kept waiting," he said.

Anger took hold of Albus. All the feelings of hurt and shame seething inside him rose to the surface and bubbled over into fury. The sheer arrogance of Gellert Grindelwald, the idea that he could do whatever he pleased, go wherever he wished, treat life as some sort of game, with no respect for other people...who on Earth did he think he was?

"Are you deaf?" Albus shouted, drawing his own wand. "I told you to go away!"

"Before you say anything further, catch this," Gellert said. A small ball appeared in his right hand, which he hurled at Albus in the blink of an eye. Instinctively, Albus reached out with his hand, and as the ball struck his palm, he felt the sensation of a hook jerking behind his navel, pulling him off his feet. The ground fell away beneath him as the room dissolved into a whirlwind of shapes and colours. He was flying forward, speeding through a vortex of sound and motion.

A Portkey.

_Thump. _

Albus hit the soil hard, the breath being driven out of him with a grunt. He rolled a few times before coming to rest on his back and opening his eyes, dazed and disoriented. The sky was black and star-flecked. It was cold. He had no idea where he was. Slowly, he rolled over, picked up his wand and clambered to his feet.

He was standing in the centre of a forest clearing. Tall, dark trees stretched away in every direction and the scent of pine or some other tree sap was sharp and strong in the air. There was something unsettling about the trees. Apart from the whispering of their leaves (why were the leaves rustling when there was no wind?), the forest was dead still and silent.

"Caw. Caw. Caw."

On the branch of a tree at the clearing's edge, a big, black crow perched, staring at Albus with its huge yellow eyes.

"Caw. Caw, caw," it insisted, hunching its back and ruffling its wing feathers.

The sight of the bird stirred something unpleasant in Albus' memory. Crows. They had many meanings, none of them happy. Was it a messenger from Father Woden? A servant of Cronus, Grandfather Time? Was it...

"Death," said Gellert.

Albus spun around. Gellert was standing a few feet behind him. He must have Apparated so softly that Albus hadn't heard him.

"Do you know what a crow does when it finds a living animal?" Gellert asked. Slowly, he began to pace around Albus. "It makes no difference how big the animal is. If a crow is hungry, it will follow. Because they know."

Albus shuddered. Was this real, or was this a scene from one of his nightmares? He hated this place, hated the whispering trees and the dead silence hanging over the forest and the staring crow, perched like a grim harbinger overhead. This whole wood made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to leave right now.

"Know what?" he asked, despite himself.

Gellert stopped pacing, turned and fixed Albus with a piercing stare.

"That all things die," he said.

Albus shivered again. The way Gellert said those words, with such iron certainty, they were more than a statement of fact. They were a death sentence, a condemnation of everything that lived.

"What about the gods?" Albus asked.

"They die too," Gellert said.

"But how? They're immortal."

Gellert shook his head. "Do you know who Asherah is?" he asked. "Or Molech? Hubal? Ba'al? Or a million others?"

"Asherah," Albus answered. "A goddess worshipped throughout the Middle East, the wife of El. Molech and Ba'al, gods of the Canaanites. Hubal, a Arabic moon god worshipped in the Ka'aba."

"No longer. Once these gods, and a million others like them, had mighty temples with thousands of followers sacrificing and praying in their names. They controlled entire nations. But as time went by, new religions came and replaced the old. Foreign armies invaded and slaughtered the followers of the old ways and introduced the new. Today, no one remembers the names of these old gods. Their temples stand empty and abandoned, buried under mountains of sand. Such is the fate of the gods. Even they also must die. One day our Magian religion will be wiped out by our enemies. Woden, Thor, Freya, Zeus, Athena, Osiris, Ra, Heracles... all of our gods are fading into the shadows of time. One day they will be gone, replaced by the Christian god Jesus or the Muslim god Allah. And in time, even the Christian and Muslim gods will die and be forgotten, and replaced by a new religion. All things must die. Even gods."

Gellert crouched and, using the tip of his wand, began to trace in the soil of the clearing. "All things must die. This is a fundamental law of the universe. So fundamental that animals know it. This magical law is so powerful that nothing, not even gods, can break it." He dragged the wandtip down, drawing a straight line in the soil.

Albus was silent. He didn't like all this talk of death, this obsession with their inevitable destruction. Maybe it was true that everything had to die, but the two of them were alive right now, weren't they? Even if their lives lasted just a short while, why waste the time they had on bemoaning their fate? Shouldn't they be treating every minute as a precious and rare gift?

"But," Gellert continued, "the study of magic teaches us not only that laws exist, but also that if the wizard is skilled enough, if the will is strong enough, the laws of magic can be manipulated, counteracted… or even broken." He drew a circle over the lower half of the line. "There always is a way. The greater the law, the greater the amount of magic needed to work against it. And if "all things must die" is the greatest law of all... then only a magic of equal strength can work against it. This magic, the old, true magic, would require wizards of exceptional skill. And the most powerful magical objects." Around the circle and the line he drew a triangle.

_Can it be? _Albus wondered. _Is death really the greatest magic of all? Just because it's the most final, does that mean it's the most powerful? Life lasts for the blink of an eye. Love lasts for even less time than that. And death is forever. But does that make death the greatest?_

What if Gellert were right? What if there really were a magic powerful enough to overcome death? Myths of immortality and resurrection abounded, but no wizard living or dead had actually managed to create such a spell. Supposing it were possible, Albus could bring back his mother and father. They would be a family again… and Albus could be a child, with a proper childhood. He wouldn't have to be a parent to Aberforth and Ariana. He wouldn't be stuck in Godric's Hollow, he would have the freedom to go wherever he wanted, do whatever he pleased, just as Gellert did. In his mind's eye, he saw his family together, his parents and his brother and sister. Death had marked his family since he was a little boy. How different things could have been.

As Gellert stood upright, Albus saw the symbol etched in the ground at Gellert's feet. It was the sign he had seen in his dreams.

"Caw. Caw. Caw," the crow croaked from its perch, flapping its wings.

Gellert smiled. "My little messenger of death. Come here. I have a message for your master." He held out his right arm, and the crow left the branch, fluttering towards Gellert on its shining black wings. With much flapping, it came to halt, perched on Gellert's outstretched arm.

Gellert stroked the crow's glossy plumage with his left hand. Then, without warning, he grabbed the bird tight around the neck. It croaked, flapping its wings and lashing out with its talons in desperation, but Gellert only took hold of its neck with his right hand as well, squeezing and choking the life out of it. With a sudden twisting motion, he broke the crow's neck, leaving its body dangling limp and lifeless from his hands.

Sickened, Albus covered his eyes. "Why did you do that?"

"Why not? It was going to die in any case. It was only a question of when. I was in fact doing it a favour. It had a long life of cold, starvation and fear in front of it, and I have saved it from all of that."

"That's ridiculous. With that kind of logic, you could justify killing anything. What's to stop you from… " Albus hesitated. "Killing people," he finished eventually.

Gellert only smirked.

Albus' stomach churned. "Why did you bring me here, Gellert? Are you – are you going to kill me?" Albus' voice broke as he asked the question.

Gellert's eyes were narrow and cold as they regarded Albus. "Do not be silly. I would never hurt you. In the first place, you are my friend. Secondly, you are useful to me. I need you more than I have ever needed anyone."

That reply failed to put Albus at ease. There was so much about Gellert that was strange and unpredictable. It seemed to Albus that being friends with Gellert was like being friends with a wild beast, a wolf or a bear. He was impossible to tame, and there was no knowing when he would turn on you. And what did Gellert mean by saying Albus was useful to him? Did that mean Albus was safe until he stopped being useful?

"Tell me, Albus. You have studied magical philosophy. You are learned in the laws of nature, physical and magical. In your opinion, is it possible to break even the most fundamental laws of the universe? If death is final, can there be a magical spell, a power to work against it? Is it possible?"

A quotation rose in Albus' mind, summoned from his distant memory. He said, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth."

"Yes," said Gellert. "I agree. Come, follow me." He began to walk, the dead crow swinging from his right hand. After a moment's hesitation, Albus followed him.

_I wonder what Gellert believes in?_ Albus thought._ I don't think he's conventionally religious, not with all his talk of gods dying. I don't think he believes in other people. He doesn't have enough respect for them to believe in them. I think he believes mostly in himself. He seems to think he's capable of doing anything he puts his mind to. If I were as powerful and as confident as Gellert, I would have great faith in myself as well. I've never believed in myself… I wish I did. It must be nice, never having to doubt yourself, never having to think of yourself as worthless._

They left the clearing and began to pass through the trees, lighting their wand tips to see by. The trees reared on either side, their trunks twisted and writhing, their branches rising and spreading, blocking out the moonlight, gnarling into claw-like shapes, their leaves rustling. Albus didn't like them. He didn't like the way the wind hissed through their leaves, the way their boughs reached towards him and raked at him with their tips, the way their roots rose out of the ground and caught his feet, causing him to trip and stumble. A couple of times he found himself lagging further and further behind Gellert, and he had to hurry to catch up, racing towards the light of Gellert's wand in the darkness. He didn't want to be left alone in this godforsaken place, and he had a creepy, irrational feeling that the trees were trying to separate him from Gellert. He couldn't stand the silence, so he spoke to hear the sound of his own voice.

"This is rather silly," he said, "but this wood is making me quite uncomfortable. It's strange. I'm not sure about German Magians, but we English Magians believe that forests are safe, holy places."

"No," said Gellert. "They also can be dangerous places. You are right to be on guard."

"But… we believe that good spirits live inside the trees."

"Not only _good_ spirits."

Now that Gellert had said it, Albus knew that it was true. In British folklore and mythology, the forest was not just the home of the gods. It was the home of other things, the dark hidden things that lived outside the human world: the Fair Folk, the Elven King, the Big Bad Wolf, the Wicked Witch, the trolls, ogres and giants, the merfolk, kelpies and selkies… and worse things.

The dark woods were the opposite of civilisation. The village represented home, safety, humanity, law and order, light, the known and familiar. The wood was wilderness, danger, spirit, chaos and discord, darkness, the unknown and strange. Every British child heard the stories warning them to stay out of the woods at night. Deep in the forest lived the Wicked Witch and the Big Bad Wolf, and worse things. Don't leave the village after dark, don't go into the forest at night, my dear one, my little one, my precious. Stay here with me. There are bad things…

_Who's afraid of the Big, Bad Wolf?_

_I'm not afraid. I love him. He won't hurt me, he said so himself._

Shivering, Albus quickened his pace and drew closer to Gellert. As he did so, he realised that, ironically, Gellert was probably more dangerous than anything else in this forest. But at least Gellert was human and friendly, and familiar, and beautiful.

"Why are we here, Gellert?" Albus whispered. "I don't like this place. I want to go home. Let's Disapparate."

"If you leave now, you will always be wondering what you missed out," Gellert said. "There is something here you should see. You were bored in Godric's Hollow with nothing to do except write papers. You are a great wizard. You should be exploring the world, using your powers, pushing the study of magic to its limit, no? You were not made for paper spells or for babysitting children. I can see that you are a caged tiger. They have tamed you, taken away your fangs and your claws, taught you to behave well and be obedient. But inside you sleeps raw power, waiting to come out. You were made for the true magic, old and raw and dangerous. Well, in this forest you will see some things that will open your eyes."

Open your eyes. _For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil._ A holy tree, standing in a grove. From its branches, a corpse hanging by a rope, its throat opened, its blood spilling out. _No. No, I don't want that._

"You are the serpent," Albus whispered. "And I am your Eve."

"Why do you call me that?"

"You don't understand. You've never read the Christian Bible."

"Why do you know so many quotes from it? Your family is Magian, I thought."

"Yes. But when I was a child, my father told me that my great-grandmother was a Christian. And when I looked through her old belongings, I found a copy of her bible, and I read the whole thing cover to cover."

Dead leaves crunched under their feet as they trekked deeper and deeper into the wood. They were enveloped in darkness now. The branches meeting overhead blotted out the light of the moon and stars. The clearing had been left far behind. Outside the circle of light cast by their wands, the night was pitch black. There could be anything lurking out there, but they wouldn't know until it was on top of them.

Fear was steadily rising in Albus' stomach, the tension stretching almost to breaking point. He wanted to flee, but he didn't want Gellert to think he was a coward. With a warm glow of pride, he remembered Gellert saying that he was a great wizard, meant for great things.

_Do you actually believe him, fool? You heard the way he spoke to the girls in town. He doesn't care about people, he just says things to manipulate them. He uses people and when he's done with them, he throws them away._

_Oh, Gellert, what beautiful eyes you have._

_All the better to see you with, my dear._

Suddenly, Gellert came to halt. Albus was following so close behind that he collided with Gellert's back and stumbled. Gellert took hold of Albus' arm, steadying him.

"Someone is following us," said Gellert. "Or something. Stay close beside me." He slipped his hand into Albus' and began to walk again, pulling Albus along, forcing Albus to switch his wand to his left hand.

_Gellert, what big hands you have._

_All the better to hold you with._

"What do you mean?" Albus asked, on the verge of panic as Gellert tugged him along.

"Shh. If you must speak, whisper."

"Gellert, what's following us?"

"I do not know. But we will find out soon."

Gellert quickened the pace, and the two of them were half-running now, the foliage crunching under their feet. Wild fantasies of monsters and demons, werewolves and witches flickered in Albus' brain. His heart pounded so hard in his chest he thought it would explode.

"Let's Disapparate!" he hissed.

"No," Gellert said. "This wood is mine. And what is the worst that can happen? Do you fear death?"

"Yes! Don't you?"

"No. I fear nothing. If death wants me, let him come and try to take me."

"Gellert…"

"Have no fear. Just trust me." He flashed a grin at Albus. His teeth shone white in the wand-light.

_Gellert, what big teeth you have._

_All the better to eat you with, my dear._

They ran for half a minute more, before Gellert slowed and came to a stop. Albus was gasping, taking in big gulps of air, although he hated the air of this place. The thought of taking it into his body made him feel polluted, but he needed oxygen. There was a faint burning in his chest. He had never been athletic, even in school, and he'd spent the past few weeks indoors, studying for his exams or going over the arrangements for his mother's funeral…

"It's coming," Gellert said. "Keep your wand up."

They waited with wands drawn, in silence and surrounded by darkness.

"Ah," said Gellert. "I think this is a friend. But stay on guard, just in case."

More silence. Then a dim light appeared somewhere to Albus' left, brightening as it moved towards them. He heard a rustling noise, softer at first but growing steadily louder, the sound of feet crunching over dead leaves…

A girl came into view, striding through the tree trunks. She ignored Albus, heading straight for Gellert, coming to a standstill a few feet in front of him. She had straight brown hair that hung past her shoulders, a small, pretty face with large brown eyes. She stared at Gellert with a look of mad, desperate hope.

"Meister Gellert!" she breathed. She sank to her knees and crawled forward, her hands grasping at Gellert's feet. She began to speak very fast in German. Albus only knew a few German words, but he caught the girl repeatedly saying "Meister Gellert", "mein Herr" and another phrase, "Meister des Todes."

Why was the girl calling Gellert master, sir or lord? And unless Albus was mistaken, "Meister des Todes" meant "Master of Death." What could it mean? Nothing good, that was certain.

Gellert raised the girl to her feet, put his arms around her and gave her a long kiss on the mouth.

Albus lowered his eyes.

"Albus, this is Elke. She is a friend of mine from Durmstrang."

_A very good friend, by the looks of it, _thought Albus bitterly.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

em: Thanks! Keep reading, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story.

Enrika_Lovegood: Thank you for the kind words. I'll try not to disappoint.

KnightKat: You always have such lovely things to say, your reviews brighten my day. I'm touched by your words. When I was little I did think it would be cool to be an author, but when I grew older I realised that not many people can make a living from writing. So I decided to get a respectable day job and write for enjoyment on the side. Also, I can't take credit for the Magian gods because I'm mostly rewriting their myths and adding my own little twist to them in some places.


	12. Unquiet Graves

Elke was probably a nice girl, but Albus didn't like her. He knew it was wrong, but he was jealous of the intimacy between Gellert and her, the way she casually leaned her body against his, the way he put his arm around her waist. It was obvious that she'd known Gellert for much longer than Albus had, and he resented her for it.

After Gellert made the introductions, Elke spoke in English for Albus' sake, although her accent was stronger than Gellert's and her English not quite as fluent.

The three of them began walking through the forest, wands drawn and lit, Gellert in the lead. Albus' heart was still pounding from earlier, and he felt even more exposed now that there were three pairs of boots disturbing the fallen leaves, their footsteps sounding unnaturally loud in the still woods.

Apparently Albus was the only one who was concerned. Gellert was marching purposefully again, as though nothing had happened. Elke kept looking at Gellert as though she couldn't believe her eyes.

"What for are you here, Gellert?" she said. "Where have you been since after you left Durmstrang? Everyone else has given up looking for you."

"I have been busy," Gellert said. "The world will not change itself. You know I have work to do. I am staying in England, where the Deathly Hallows were last known to be."

Elke inhaled sharply. "The Heiligtümer. You found them?"

"No. But I am closer now than ever before."

Elke gave a little cry. "When the others learn of this, they will be amazed. I always knew you will find the Hallows. I always did believe."

"You need not tell the others. At this point they will only slow me down. I have Albus now, and he is ten times stronger than all of them together. If I have further uses for them, I myself will let them know. And keep your voice down. There are dark things in this wood."

"I know," said Elke. "We made them. But what for did you come back here? It is not safe. I knew you would come, I came here and looked for you every day. The others give up, but I always believe. But if you do not wish to see us, then why come back?"

"I want to show something to Albus. We are going to the cabin."

"No!" Elke exclaimed. "It is not safe!"

"No one asked you to come. If you are frightened, leave us."

"I will stay," Elke said, but she glanced nervously to her left and right, as though afraid something was watching them.

They walked on in silence for almost five minutes before the landscape began to change, the trees thinning out and the ground sloping gently downwards. Soon they emerged from the gloom under the trees and found themselves on the bank of a dirt hill. Below them was a vast tract of land several hectares in area, mostly cleared of trees, although the forest had begun creeping back around its perimeter. In the very centre of the clearing stood a few abandoned-looking buildings, surrounded by a ring of trees that looked suspiciously like a Magian holy grove, the sight of which disturbed Albus, bringing back uncomfortable memories. Beside the buildings were a few rusted old vehicles, barely visible in the pale, watery moonlight.

"What is this place?" Albus asked. "Where are we?" He didn't want to be here, especially now that one of Gellert's girlfriends was with them. He felt raw and self-conscious being around Gellert, but at the same time he was flattered that Gellert was interested in him, and curious to see what this was about.

Gellert began to descend the steep hillside, his boots slipping and sliding on the soil. Elke and Albus followed after him.

"We are in Sachsen," Gellert said as the three of them half walked, half slid downwards. "Once part of the Austrian Empire, but taken by Prussia in the war, so it is now part of the German Empire, as it should be. We are close to the border here. To the east and south is the Austrian Empire."

Elke said, "It is called as the Austro-Hungarian Empire now."

Gellert scoffed. "Those jumped-up Hungarians think they are fit to take over a German empire?"

"But Austrians are not part of Germany. Not any more."

"Austrians are Germans. They belong to the German Empire. They are merely being rebellious. We will take them soon, and then we will teach a lesson to all the filthy Hungarians and Poles and Czechs who think they can steal German land. Once all the German people are united in one nation, we will be a force as nothing the world has ever seen before."

Albus winced at Gellert's ultra-nationalistic sentiments. He hated it when Gellert spoke that way.

"This was once a military outpost," Gellert went on. "Over four thousand soldiers died here, and many peasants too."

"A military outpost? That doesn't sound safe," said Albus. "What if the soldiers see us?"

"You need not worry about the _soldiers_. They left a long time ago and they won't come back. People stay away from this wood."

"Why?"

"Many people died here. Now it is said this forest is haunted." Gellert made an amused sound.

They reached the bottom of the slope. Gellert leapt the last three metres to the ground, landed lightly and walked on without missing a beat. Elke and Albus took a little longer to reach the bottom, and when they did, they hurried to catch up with Gellert.

As they headed towards the buildings, the moonlight turned their shadows into long, eerie forms that drifted over the ground. All was still and quiet as the grave. It took Albus a while to realise that, in fact, they _were _in a graveyard.

They were walking along a rough dirt track. To either side were fields of barren soil, with pieces of wood sticking out of them, which Albus had at first taken for fallen branches. Now he saw that the wood made crude crosses, some of which stuck up out of the ground, though most had fallen flat.

"Whose graves are these?" Albus asked.

"As I said, soldiers and peasants," Gellert replied. "Many died in the war, too many to give a proper burial for. Their bodies were simply dumped in fields like this with no identification."

"That's very sad."

"They're only Muggles."

"It's still very sad."

"I forgot your soft heart, Albus. But save your pity for the wizards that died."

"Who put the crosses here, if no one knows who died?"

"There are some Muggle villages nearby. The village folk put the crosses here because of the dead."

"That's a kind gesture."

"Yes, but it's also for self-protection."

"What do you mean?"

"The village folk believe the crosses will keep away Dark magic. Silly fools. Their Muggle god has no power here, in the heart of the wood, where the old magic lives."

Albus glanced around. "Gellert, why are we here? What could you possibly want to show me in a burial ground?"

"He who would overcome death must first study his enemy, yes? Learn its ways, its strengths and weaknesses, hold its essence in his hands…" There was a fondness in Gellert's voice when he spoke of death that Albus didn't care for.

"Study…" Abruptly, Albus came to a halt. "Now hold on just a minute, Gellert. Do you mean to say that you… _study_ the bodies buried here?"

Gellert stopped and turned to face Albus. "Yes. Why, is there a problem?"

"But that's outrageous!" Albus exclaimed.

"Why? Are you squeamish? I thought you were interested in magical research."

"Yes, but this is wrong! It's incredibly disrespectful to the dead! Gellert, these people didn't give their consent for their bodies to be studied. They were unceremoniously thrown into these graves. It's wrong to disturb them. After everything they've been through, at least let them rest in peace."

"Why are you angry at me, Albus? It was not I who started this war, nor ordered these soldiers to fight. It was not I who killed them, nor did I dump their bodies here. The ones responsible for this waste of human life are all old or dead now. At least by using them in my studies of magic, I am making sure their lives mean something more than just being a nameless corpse rotting in a hole somewhere." Gellert's eyes bored deep into Albus'. "You say this is disrespectful, an outrage? Against whom? The dead have no feelings. Only the living can feel offence on behalf of the dead. And these bodies have lain here rotting for decades, with no one to mourn them, remember them or even know about them. When I found them they were nothing but food for worms!"

Gellert spun around and continued walking. Elke gave Albus a quick glance, a strange expression on her face, before following Gellert. Albus stood still for a few moments, pondering Gellert's words, before slowly going after the other two. He didn't want to be left alone in this place.

Soon they reached the grove encircling the abandoned buildings. The trees were very large and ghostly grey in the moonlight, stretching high into the night, their bark wrinkled and lined like old skin. Someone had cut Gellert's symbol into each of the tree trunks: the line, circle and triangle that together made a sort of eye. From each inscribed symbol a dried crust of tree sap trailed like old blood or tears, as though the trees were crying or bleeding. Albus didn't like the way the weeping eyes watched them.

"Once we go within the trees, we should be safe," Gellert said.

"Safe from what?" asked Albus.

Without replying, Gellert passed between two trees and entered the grove. Elke did the same. When Albus tried to follow after them, however, something stopped him. His legs froze and refused to carry him across the magic circle's boundary.

"The trees want a tribute," Gellert said, when he saw that Albus had stopped. "Then they will let you pass."

"What tribute?" Albus asked, though he thought he already knew.

"Blood."

Albus hesitated. "If I give my blood, that will put me in the power of whoever raised this grove. I'm not sure I should do that."

"I raised this grove. Do you not trust me?"

_Not one bit. But love makes fools of us all. _Slowly, Albus brought his wand to the tip of his left index finger and made a small cut. He waited for a drop of blood to well up before daubing it on the nearest tree trunk. The blood shimmered on the silver bark for a moment before disappearing into the tree. As it did so, Albus felt a familiar surge of energy flowing up his arm, making his head spin. Before he realised what was happening, he was stumbling, leaning against the tree trunk for support.

"Albus!" In an instant Gellert was beside him, his right arm sliding beneath Albus', his left coming around Albus' back and across his chest, holding him steady.

"Is he all right?" Elke asked concernedly, hovering at Albus' other side. Together Gellert and Elke helped Albus through the trees and towards the front door of the nearest building.

"I'm fine," Albus said, trying to reassure himself as much as them. "I just had a bit of a funny turn, that's all. I'll catch my breath in a minute." He wasn't fine, though. Whatever that tree had done to him, it was making his head spin and his stomach churn. Shadows crept along the edge of his sight, but when he turned his head, there was nothing there. It was just like that time in the inner sanctum of the temple when he had seen that strange vision. His sight blurred, and he felt that if he didn't concentrate on the here and now he would be thrust back into another strange memory.

_What's wrong with me? _he wondered. _What did Gellert do to me?_

Dimly, he was aware of Gellert lifting his wand and murmuring some words. The door of the cabin opened, and Elke and Gellert helped him walk inside. The interior was one big room, dark but surprisingly free of dust considering how derelict the building looked from the outside. Obviously Gellert and his friends had been using the place until quite recently.

"Let him lie down in front of the fireplace," Gellert said, his voice muffled as though coming from a long way away. With a flick of his wand, he set a fire blazing in the hearth. Another flick spread warm furs on the floor before the fire.

Struggling to control his dizziness, Albus paid no attention to the cabin's contents. All he knew was that Gellert was kneeling beside him, helping him down onto the furs. As Albus lay back on the soft folds and closed his eyes, the flames sent delicious waves of warmth across his body. He realised he had been shivering. When had it gotten so cold? He opened his eyes and saw Gellert gently drawing more furs over him, covering him up to his chest.

"Thank you," Albus whispered, his teeth chattering.

Gellert removed Albus' spectacles and laid them on the floor. He brushed a few strands of auburn hair from Albus' face and laid his hand on Albus' cheek. For a moment there was an unfamiliar look in his eyes, soft and almost tender, before he stood up and moved away.

Closing his eyes again, Albus turned towards the fire and wriggled until he was comfortable under the furs. Distantly, he heard Elke and Gellert speaking. At first they were speaking in German, which he couldn't understand, but somehow the sounds twisted around and he found himself knowing the meaning of the words.

"Was ist los mit ihm?"

"Ich weiß nicht."

"He is important to you, isn't he?"

"He is very valuable."

"You care for him more than you care for us."

"Are you jealous?"

A soft laugh. "Jealous? Yes, a little. But I always knew this would happen. All you care about is power."

"That's not _all _I care about."

"Gellert…"

There were more noises now, quiet and intimate. Was that a kiss? The sound of hands tracing flesh, of fabric sliding against skin? Albus didn't know. He was slipping away, far away…

_They were a few miles from home, deep in the forest. It was a bright spring morning and the woods were alive with colour: wildflowers growing in patches, butterflies dancing in shafts of sunlight, birds flitting through the branches high above. Annabel was tired, her little legs unused to travelling so far._

_"Are we there yet?" she asked for the hundredth time, as they crossed a rapid-flowing river, deep and swift with the water of the newly melted winter glaciers. "I want my surprise now."_

_"Just a little further," Albus said. "You'll get your surprise, don't worry." _

_"But I want it now," she whined._

_Why oh why wouldn't the stupid cunt leave him alone? If she would just stop being so annoying all the time, he wouldn't have to keep hurting her. She was such a tattletale, too. Every time she went crying to Papa, Albus ended up with a beating. After the last thrashing, Albus had been so angry he hadn't spoken to Anna for two weeks. Before she was born, he had been Papa's favourite. Well, this time he would show her. Today he would get his revenge._

_They stopped in a quiet glade. _

_"Give it to me!" Annabel jumped up and down, clapping her hands together in excitement. No doubt she thought it was her lucky day. Her brother hardly ever paid attention to her, and today he had actually taken her out on a walk to give her a special surprise._

_Albus flourished his wand and conjured two objects out of thin air: a large, heavy wooden box that fell to the ground with a thump, and a smaller black box that settled gently on top of the wooden one._

_Annabel stared at them in wonder. "Are these both for me?" she asked, wide-eyed._

_"Yes," Albus said. "Open the smaller one first."_

_Hesitantly, with trembling fingers, Annabel reached out and picked up the black box. She opened it and gave a small cry of delight. Inside, nestling on a bed of soft white velvet, was a tiny pair of new fur gloves._

_"Well, go on," said Albus. "Put them on."_

_Annabel drew the gloves on reverently. She held them up to the morning light before spinning around, her skirt fanning about her. No doubt she thought she looked like a rich lady._

_"Well, how do you like them?" asked Albus._

_"They are beautiful, Gellert!" she said, a huge smile lighting up her little face. "But they look so expensive. Where did you get them?"_

_"I made them myself."_

_"Made them?" Annabel asked, wrinkling her brow._

_"Yes. Out of finest rabbit skin." _

_"Rabbit skin?"_

_"Oh, yes. Don't you want the second part of your surprise?" He tapped the wooden chest with his wand. With a click, the lid swung open to reveal the bodies of three dead rabbits, their eyes bulging, their skinless flesh pale pink._

_Annabel screamed and backed away, her face twisted with horror. She tore the gloves from her hands and flung them to the ground. _

_"No," she said. "No, no, no! Those are my rabbits! Papa gave them to me!"_

_"What's the matter? Don't you like your surprise?" Albus laughed and laughed._

_"You monster! When I tell Papa about this, he'll kill you!" Annabel turned and ran. She didn't get very far before Albus caught her and slammed her into a tree._

_"No more telling Papa, understand?" Albus said. "From now on, you'll do as I say, or you'll be dead just like those rabbits."_

_A force crackled through the air like lightning and struck Albus, knocking him back a couple of paces. By the time his head cleared and he worked out that Annabel had hexed him, she was already running away._

_He drew his wand and aimed it at her as she raced towards the river._

_"Stupefy!" he shouted. A jet of red light shot from his wand and struck her squarely in the back, sending her tumbling. She fell straight into the water, disappearing beneath the surface with a splash._

_"Anna!" Terrified, he raced towards the riverbank. Papa really would flay him if anything happened to her. Halfway there he slowed as a thought occurred to him, and by the time he reached the bank he had come to a stop._

_He stared at the river's surface, watching the water flash with silver light as it rippled and warped. He couldn't see the bottom. Annabel still hadn't come up. _

_Supposing she drowned. His parents couldn't really blame him, could they? After all, it wasn't his fault if she slipped and fell into the river, was it? He could say that he tried to save her, but everyone knew how dangerous the streams got in early spring when they were swollen from melted glacier water from the mountains. The river was just too fast and too deep…_

_He would have to find her body. If someone else found it, they might detect the Stunning Spell._

_His parents would be sad for a while, but they would get over it. After all, they still had him. _

_He nodded, his mind made up. He stripped off his clothes and, armed only with his wand, waded into the river._

* * *

><p>Gellert. Gellert, come to me.<p>

_Albus opened his eyes, feeling them prickle with tears. It had been a hard week. Things hadn't turned out as he'd planned. Papa had beaten him anyway, because it had been his responsibility to make sure his sister didn't get hurt. His parents probably suspected there was more to Annabel's death than he'd told them, though they couldn't prove it. _

_After the funeral the house had become unbearable to live in. Papa was angrier and more violent than ever, and Mama spent all her time in bed crying, not even getting up to cook. He wished his sister was still alive._

Gellert. Gellert. Gellert.

_The voice pounded in his head like drumbeats, refusing to let him sleep. At last he slipped out of bed and made his way to the glass case holding Papa's wand._

_"What do you want?" he whispered._

Wield me. Use me. I can show you powers you never dreamed of.

_"I don't want any of your powers. I just wish my sister was back. But no spell can bring back the dead."_

Is that all? Bring back the dead? Easy.

_"What?"_

Oh, yes. Just pick me up and do as I say. Within me is the power of life… and of death.

_"I know there are spells that can kill. But I thought no spell can restore life to the dead."_

You thought wrongly. Life and death are the same thing, two sides of the same coin. What takes away with one hand can give with the other. Now, take hold of me.

_Albus reached into the box and picked up his father's wand. It felt more comfortable in his grip this time._

Good. Listen well. First we need the body.

_Under the light of a crescent moon, the churchyard was dark and still. With a wave of the wand, Albus raised the soil from the grave, uncovering the coffin. The magic seemed to come more easily, the new wand in his hand eager to do his bidding. He opened the coffin with a slashing motion, revealing Annabel's corpse, bloated from water, white and lifeless in the moonlight. The stench was so bad he choked._

Good. Take it into the woods.

_"Mobilicorpus." With his sister's body drifting in the air behind him like a grotesque balloon, he hurried through the woods until he reached a grove of holy trees. Setting her down on the roots of the biggest tree, he stood back._

_"Now what?" he asked._

Now we need the sacrifice.

_"Sacrifice? What sacrifice?"_

Do you want the gods to resurrect this girl? Then you must pay them their due. The first law of magic is that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If you want them to give you a life, you must pay them a life in exchange.

_"I don't understand."_

Is there anyone you wish to kill?

_Albus hesitated. "Yes. My father."_

Bring him here.

_Back to the house they trekked under the knife-shaped moon. Anticipation was building in Albus' gut. He slid into his parents' bedroom, where his father lay snoring and stinking of beer, and raised his wand, prepared to cast the Killing Curse._

No! Not the Killing Curse. He must die under the tree. Use the Imperius Curse.

_Albus did as he was told, careful not to wake his mother. He forced his father out of the house and into the forest, enjoying the feeling of having power over the tyrant. This was easy, so easy. Why hadn't he done this years ago, why had he put up with his father for so long?_

_They reached the grove. Following the wand's instructions, Albus bound his father to the tree and began the incantations. At the height of the spell, he used the wand to slit his father's throat. Crimson blood bubbled from the gash in his neck and watered the roots of the tree, as the wind whispered accusingly through the leaves and the cold killing moon watched remorselessly._

It is done. They have accepted your offering. Go to her.

_Annabel's little body was white and shrivelled by the tree's roots, like a rotten fruit. Albus knelt beside it._

_"Anna?" he whispered._

_She stirred. Slowly, glacially, she rose, pulling herself into a sitting position. Her head turned. Her eyes focused on him._

_Albus gasped, drew back. Whatever was looking at him from those milky, blank eye sockets, it wasn't his sister. He swallowed._

_"Anna? Are you all right? Speak to me."_

_Anna's lips moved. A voice like rustling leaves issued from her mouth, so soft Albus had to strain to hear it._

_"Hungry," she said. "Hungry. Hungry." Her white, dead hands closed around his throat. He struggled to break free but her grip was impossibly strong, crushing his windpipe, choking the life out of him. The dead, rotten stench of her filled his nostrils, made his stomach heave. He could see worms moving under her skin. She dragged him closer to her lips, her mouth opening…_

_Fire. A blaze of heat and light blossomed around him, and suddenly he was free, on his hands and knees, gasping for air. His throat felt raw and each breath hurt. Raising his head, he saw that Annabel, or the thing that used to be Annabel, was cowering against the tree trunk, away from the flames. The trees were whipping their branches back and forth in protest, as though angered by the presence of fire._

_It was the wand in his hand. It had saved him by casting a spell._

Be careful. The dead feed on the living.

_"What's wrong with her? Why did she attack me?"_

You brought her back, but not all of her. She is half dead now, and she must eat life in order to sustain herself.

_"That's sick!"_

Is it? You eat dead plants and animals to feed yourself, do you not? The living feed on the dead, and the dead feed on the living. It is all part of the balance. You fear it now, but in time you will learn to understand it, and use it for your own purposes.

_"What am I supposed to do with her?"_

Whatever you please. Command her. She will obey you.

_"But she attacked me."_

She only attacked because she was hungry. Feed her. Then she will be obedient.

_"And what am I supposed to feed her?"_

Flesh. Preferably while it is still alive. But dead meat will do, if it died only recently. We have some with us here.

_At last Albus understood. Raising the wand, he said, "Diffindo!" _

_The rope was severed, and Papa's body fell to the ground. _

_"Dinnertime, Annabel," he said. She seemed to understand, shuffling towards the corpse. When she fell to her hands and knees and lowered her mouth to the body, Albus had to look away…_

Albus opened his eyes and found himself staring into the flames. The fire was right beside him, burning low, but despite its closeness he was shivering, covered in sweat. What had he been dreaming about? There was something important, something about death and fire.

He rolled over to face the room and slipped on his glasses. In the dim, ruddy glow of the hearth he could see a pile of furs spread out against the far wall. It took a while to work out what he was seeing: Gellert and Elke lying in the furs, their bodies tangled together.

His face burning, he turned back to face the hearth and curled into a ball. How lucky Elke was, that stupid cow. He would give anything to be in her place, to be lying beside Gellert, his head resting on Gellert's chest, Gellert's strong arms around him holding him close, Gellert's hot breath on his neck. How sweet, how wonderful that would be. He wondered what Gellert looked like naked. Beautiful, probably.

Albus pulled the blanket over his head, sealing himself in darkness, and closed his eyes. Why couldn't Gellert love him? Why did his heart have to endure this torment? He couldn't take it.

He imagined Gellert touching Elke, kissing her, smiling at her, looking at her with his eyes full of gentleness, and the thought made him so angry he wanted to smash something into pieces. It should be him with Gellert. Why did Gellert love these silly harlots?

Desperate to drive the images out of his head, he focused on the dream he had just had, trying to recall the details. There had been darkness and moonlight, a little girl and a horrible smell. Oh, gods, that smell was disgusting. Sick, putrid and foul, that stench of rot and decay had invaded the nostrils and assaulted the brain. Albus shuddered just to think about it.

Hold on. Was he imagining it, or…? Albus pulled the blanket from his head, inhaled deeply and coughed. No, the smell really was in the room, right then and there, but worse, a hundred times worse than in his dream. How could that be?

_Bang! _

Something struck the door of the cabin with the force of a battering ram, making the walls tremble. Dazed, Albus sat up and stared around the room. Elke and Gellert were doing the same.

"Gellert?" said Albus. "What was that?"

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

A series of heavy, rhythmic poundings shook the door, showing no sign of letting up.

"Die Toten!" shrieked Elke. She leapt out of bed, naked, and struggled to pull on her robe.

"Gellert!" Albus cried, panicked. "What's going on? Tell me!"

Gellert's hair was all tousled from sleep, but he didn't appear to be worried in the least. On the contrary, he was grinning broadly.

"My little pets," he said. "They are upset with me because I left without feeding them." He threw an excited look at Elke. "But how did they get through the grove? They must have broken through the enchantments. You see, they are learning! They are becoming more intelligent!"

"Gellert!" Elke screamed. "We must leave now!"

Albus struggled to his feet and drew his wand. He didn't know what was coming, but he had a very bad feeling about it.

_Crash. _The door collapsed inwards, its wood splintering as it fell to the ground. In the doorway stood three figures silhouetted against the moonlight. Slowly, they shambled into the darkened interior of the cabin.

"_Lumos Maxima!_" Albus cried. Intense light blossomed from the tip of his wand and filled the room with blinding radiance.

The three figures were wearing half-rotted military uniforms. Their skin was ghostly pale, infested with worms, and in some places had decayed to expose the muscles and bones lying beneath. Their eyes were blank and milky, animated with an unholy light. They reeked of corruption. They were unmistakeably dead, yet they were walking.

_Inferi._

The walking dead split up, one each heading for Gellert, Elke and Albus. As they moved away from the doorway, Albus caught a glimpse of more movement outside.

_There are more of them out there, waiting to catch us if we try to escape,_ he realised.

"Albus!" Elke came to Albus' side, her wand held steady before her. "You must leave now! You can't Disapparate inside the cabin. Break down the wall and go. _Incendio!_"

One of the Inferi became a walking torch, a column of orange-yellow flame, but it still kept coming towards them. So did the other two.

"I don't understand!" exclaimed Albus. "They're supposed to be repelled by heat and light! _Impedimenta!_"

The burning Inferius and the one heading for Albus stopped moving. The third was almost on top of Elke.

"_Impedimenta!_" she cried, immobilising it. "Albus, you must leave!"

Albus glanced at Gellert where he sat among the furs looking ridiculously amused, as though this was all a show put on for his entertainment.

"What about Gellert?" he said.

Gellert laughed. "You two are being so mean to my pets. They just want to play with us. Can't you make friends with them?"

What was the matter with Gellert? Was he drunk, or mad?

"Don't worry on Gellert!" Elke shouted. "Caring about him will only get you killed! I will make sure he is safe, now go!"

Albus saw that Elke was right. He needed to get out of here. Gellert could look after himself. Couldn't he?

"_Reducto!_" Albus turned, blasted open the wall behind him and ran out into the night. He had barely gotten a few metres before he collided with something heavy, something that stank of decay and seized him in a grip as icy and hard as death.

_Oh, gods. They surrounded the cabin._

He struggled, tried to pull away, but the Inferius' grip was too strong. It hung onto him, its hands tight on his throat and wrist, choking him, cutting off blood flow, numbing his arm so he couldn't lift his wand. With a sudden jerking motion, it bent Albus' arm and he felt his bones snap.

"Ahh!" he screamed.

_Disapparate! No! I'll bring it back to Godric's Hollow!_

With a low growl, the Inferius opened its dead mouth and sank its teeth deep into Albus' shoulder, tearing at his flesh.

"Ahh!" Albus screamed. "No, no! God, get off me!" He struggled harder than ever, but he couldn't pull away. There was so much pain. Everything was spinning, dissolving into darkness…

"_Incendio!_"

Albus was dimly aware of the Inferius falling away. He saw flashes of Elke, spinning and lashing out with her wand, sending out bursts of flame, harrying the Inferi as they surrounded her.

"Go, Albus!" she shouted. "Disapparate now!"

"What about… Gellert…" he muttered dazedly.

"Forget about him! He will wait until they are on top of him, and then he will fight! He only feels alive when he's near to die! I will go back for him! Now leave him to me! Go, go!"

"Thank you… Elke…" Tiredly, he focused his mind on the image of his front door. Home. Godric's Hollow.

Everything went dark for a second, the blackness compressing him from all sides. Then he was home, on the doorstep of his house in broad daylight. He collapsed to the ground, dizzy and faint, bleeding from the mess where his shoulder had been, his broken arm on fire. His stomach lurched and he retched, throwing up nothing but bile, before laying his head down and closing his eyes.

That was how Aberforth and Ariana found him, half an hour later.

* * *

><p>The Inferi poured into the cabin. Gellert hurled them back with sweeps of his wand, laughing, but each time he drove them away, more came to take their place. Elke fought her way over to him, limping, bruised and bloodied from attacks she had sustained.<p>

"Come on, Gellert! Let's go!" she begged.

"Why? The fun's just beginning!"

"Please! I don't want you to get hurt!"

Gellert sighed. "Oh, if you insist, Elke. Lead the way."

Elke could hardly believe her ears. Gellert was finally listening to sense! It was a miracle. Almost sobbing with relief, Elke turned and redoubled her efforts with the Incendio charm, carving a path through the oncoming Inferi, allowing her to escape through the breach Albus had made in the wall. She slipped out into the moonlight, Gellert following right behind her.

Turning, she said, "Now! Disapparate!"

"Wait." Gellert shot the wand out of her hand with a Disarming Charm.

"What are you doing?"

Gellert's hard blue gaze pierced through her, fixing her in place. "Who told the Headmaster about my experiments?"

"What? I…" She stared back, uncomprehending. Gellert couldn't really be asking about this now, could he?

"You heard me. Who told the Headmaster about my experiments?"

"Gellert, there's no time! The Dead will be on us in any second."

He raised his wand, and a ring of fire twice their height erupted around them, encircling them.

"Now we have time. We won't leave until I have an answer."

Elke stared hopelessly into Gellert's eyes. "I… all right, fine, do you want the truth? I told the Headmaster." She saw the fury flashing in Gellert's eyes, and added, "It wasn't just me, the others were scared too! They saw how you were changing, how you were getting out of hand. At first it was fun, but then you started doing all this Dark stuff. We never wanted to kill anyone. Please, Gellert. Please understand. I was only thinking of you. I didn't want you to get hurt."

Gellert nodded. He stepped forward and embraced Elke, wrapping her tightly in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

"I can't stand a traitor."

The ring of fire died. Gellert spun Elke around and launched her back into the cabin. She was thrown to the floor, defenceless without her wand.

"Gellert!" she screamed.

The Inferi closed on her. Two of them grabbed her legs, two others her arms.

"Gellert! Help! Help me!"

Gellert watched pitilessly, his eyes hard and unfeeling as two sapphires.

The Inferi sank their teeth into her, tearing chunks of flesh out of her arms and legs. Her cries turned into shrieks of pain, incoherent moans. Blood splattered the floor as the Dark creatures eagerly devoured the living flesh and blood their master had given them. Abruptly her cries stopped as her bones snapped, the arms and legs torn off her torso and gnawed by ravenous mouths. Her abdomen was split open and her entrails ripped apart and swallowed.

Gellert watched until all traces of Elke were gone.

"There you are, my little pets," he said. "Don't say I never feed you."

He Disapparated silently as a shadow.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Hi everyone. The bad news is that future updates will be significantly slower. This is due to a number of factors.

I have been exhausted and stressed out lately. My GP has recently put me on some antidepressant medication which may have side effects. I have been struggling with some personal problems as well as depression and anxiety. I started writing this story for fun, to relax during exams. I didn't have an elaborate plot planned, I just wrote whatever I felt like. For that reason the story is a bit disjointed and may suffer from serious creative flaws. Now I'm finding it hard to work out in exactly which direction to take the plot. It will end up somewhere, but if it turns out to be less than good, I apologise in advance. Please bear with me.

For those who left reviews to let me know that you liked it, thank you. You're the reason I'm still putting effort into writing this. Looking back on the story, I can see that there is some value in it, but I wouldn't have gotten this far if you hadn't encouraged me. I tend to get depressed and delete my own writing unless people stop me from being too self-critical.

KnightKat: I see what you mean now. It would be nice to publish a book, and these days it's quite easy to self-publish, although it costs money. So it would have to be an original story rather than a fanfic then, as I couldn't charge for a fanfic. I have a lot of crazy ideas for original fiction, though, so thanks for the suggestion.

Lemon Wedges: Thanks for your review. I really appreciate that you told me exactly what you liked in the story. Re: the sex scene, well, it's not the sex itself that makes me uncomfortable. This is probably way too much info, but I quite like sex scenes when I'm in the right mood. I just haven't had much practice writing them, so I don't know how to do them skilfully and tastefully. I'm sorry if the scene was over the top for you, but I wanted it to be rough and raw and in-your-face and overwhelming, because that's how I imagine Gellert.

Em: Hi Em (I know it's just an alias ;) ) Thanks a lot for your review, it's probably the kindest thing a stranger on the internet has written to me. It means a lot to me that you would take the time to write about your depression, which is a painful and personal subject. I will try to be strong, and it will be easier with people like you calling me special, brilliant and talented ;). You were seriously depressed for a year? I'm really sorry, but it sounds you are stronger than I am, because you're moving on. I've been struggling with it for about five years now, ever since I left high school. I had a pretty rough time being a gay male. People picked on me because they didn't like who I was and the colour of my skin.

I'm glad I left school, but there are still many challenges and I feel overwhelmed sometimes. I do tend to get lost in my stories, because when I write I feel in control. In the real world, I have no control, and people treat me like crap... But I'm trying to go out in the real world and make friends again. I'm trying to exercise and eat healthy and monitor my feelings. It's not easy though, especially because I'm still in the closet. My family comes from a conservative background and I don't want them to know until I'm financially independent. I was supposed to have my degree and a decent job by now, but I keep failing at uni because I'm too depressed and anxious to study. It's a vicious cycle. Luckily this year I passed two of my units and I will try harder next year. But I don't want to ramble on and burden you with all my problems. Listen to me, I sound like Albus in his letter to Elphias in the first chapter of my story. Actually, I think I wrote this story because Albus is a bit like me, and Gellert is a bit like a boy I knew in high school... we all fall in love with dickheads sometimes.

I just realised that I hate Gellert. I didn't mean to make him this unpleasant. I seriously considered rewriting the story to make him less unlikeable, but now I think I'll see how it goes. I just feel sorry for Albus. I don't want him to end up with Gellert any more. I did in the beginning, but now my Gellert is too nasty. Bah.


	13. Confessions, Heart to Heart

_Before they entered the chamber, his mother turned to him and looked him directly in the eye._

_"Show no discomfiture, Albus," she commanded. "We have done nothing to be ashamed of. Unseemly displays of emotion would only reflect badly on our family."_

_Albus had seen her crying just over an hour ago. It had surprised him, being one of the very few times he had seen her cry. Now, however, they were in the Ministry building, and Kendra Dumbledore was proper, composed and cold as a statue. She would never let her feelings get the best of her in public._

_"But Father will be convicted, won't he," Albus whispered._

_She nodded curtly. "Yes, but there is no reason to carry on in front of all these people. There is a time and place for everything. A time to weep and a time to be strong. Your father is a proud man, and he wants us to be strong for him today. When we walk into that chamber you will hold your head high and meet the gaze of anyone who looks at you with steadiness." _

_Albus nodded, staring at his feet. He wasn't sure how he could meet the gaze of the whole Wizengamot and the members of the audience, when he couldn't even look his own mother in the eye._

_At a curt gesture from his mother, an usher opened the door into the dungeon. Kendra Dumbledore clasped her hands and walked steadily through the doorway, her bearing proud and erect, her eldest son trailing behind her. As the pair of them entered, a brief hush fell over the room, followed by a renewed flurry of whisperings. _

_Albus risked a glance upwards and saw that it was as he'd feared: all eyes were upon them. He hated them with a passion, all the staring, gossiping vultures who had gathered to watch his family being ripped apart. Nothing gave them more perverted smugness, more self-righteous satisfaction, than to watch a respectable man like his father fall amid scandal and ignominy. Trying to keep his head up as his mother had instructed, he followed her to a bench in the front row, directly behind the prisoner's chair. _

_Another door opened and Percival Dumbledore was escorted into the room between two Dementors, who placed him in the seat. The restraining chains glowed golden and sprang to life, binding him to the chair. He seemed to have aged a great deal in the three days since Albus had last seen him. His face was haggard and lined, his body slumped, his once twinkling blue eyes dull and blank. He hardly seemed like the kind, energetic man Albus had always known and looked up to. For that matter, the father Albus knew would not have attacked three Muggle boys._

_The Chief Warlock rose and began to speak, his words washing over Albus, until he arrived at the part Albus had been dreading._

_"The Wizengamot has convened this day to render its verdict on crimes of the most severe character," he proclaimed. "The accused, Percival Dumbledore, is charged with three counts of murder, six counts of usage of an Unforgivable Curse on a human being, three counts of inflicting grievous bodily harm, and one count of flagrant violation of the International Statute for Wizarding Secrecy."_

_What an horrible litany of crimes. Was this how the world would remember his father? Albus wanted to tell them that they'd gotten his father all wrong. He wasn't a criminal. In his mind, Albus made his own list of Percival Dumbledore's deeds: one count of being a good husband, three counts of being a loving father, three counts of teaching his children to ride broomsticks, one count of being a renowned scholar, two counts of taking his sons for long walks in the country to study interesting specimens…_

_This couldn't be happening. It was just a nightmare. Soon Albus would wake up and go downstairs to see his parents sitting by the fireplace. He would stand awkwardly in the doorway until his father rustled his newspaper and said, 'Come here, tiger.' Then Albus would go and sit by his father's side and curl up, while listening to a story about the time Percival Dumbledore had fought a basilisk, or wrestled a yeti, or rode a dragon. Then his mother would shake her head and look at his father with exasperation, and a kind of tenderness in her eyes that she showed to no one else. And Albus would know that all was well._

_A man like that didn't deserve to go to Azkaban. _

_"The members of the Wizengamot have unanimously found the accused guilty of all charges. The sentence shall be five consecutive terms of life imprisonment, commencing immediately." _

_Albus sat motionless, feeling like someone had reached inside him and snapped his heart in two. He was aware of a tidal wave of muttering rippling over the dungeon, but he could barely hear it over the dull roaring in his head. _

_The Dementors swept back into the room and took Percival Dumbledore away. Before he left, he turned his head to stare right at his family. _

_'I'm sorry,' he mouthed, before he vanished through the door. Albus couldn't tell whether that was meant for him or his mother, or for both of them._

_"Dry your eyes, Albus," said his mother. She produced a handkerchief from one of her pockets and wiped Albus' cheeks clean._

_"I'm sorry, Mother," Albus said._

_"You will have to be strong now, Albus, for my sake and for the sake of your brother and sister. You will have to grow up faster than before. I will require your help to keep this family together. You are the man of the house now. "_

_Albus nodded. _

_He was ten years old._

* * *

><p>Albus opened his eyes.<p>

"Mother?" he said.

The first thing he knew was that he hurt: a dull, throbbing ache in his left forearm, and a sharper knife-like pain in his right shoulder. The second thing he realised was that he was lying on a hard surface staring at the ceiling of the dining room.

"No," said Aberforth from somewhere nearby. "But we'll have to do."

Albus twisted his head and saw his brother's face, wearing a look of concern rather than its usual scowl.

"Aberforth?" Albus said. "What… oh, gods." In a rush, it all came back to him: the dark forest, the cabin, the dead walkers, Elke and Gellert. "Gellert!" Albus sat up. Immediately, his head swam, pain sliced through his body and bile rose in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth with his hand.

"What are you doing?" Aberforth said. "You need rest."

Slowly, Albus eased himself off the dining table. "Did you patch me up?" he asked Aberforth. "Dittany, judging by the smell. Thank you, but I have to dash. I need to check on someone."

"Wait." Aberforth moved to block Albus' path. "You're not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what in blazes is going on."

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Albus. "Please move. I need to - "

"Check on someone," Aberforth interrupted. "Right. Gellert Grindelwald. But before you do, do you mind explaining why we found you lying unconscious on the doorstep, covered in blood and vomit, with a broken arm, and mincemeat where your shoulder used to be? Where the hell have you been, and what have you been doing?"

"I was… I was playing Quidditch, all right? And I fell and injured myself. And I don't have to answer to you, so kindly get out of my way. "

Albus pushed past his brother, practically ran through the hallway and made it to the front door. He had to lean against the door frame for a few seconds because of the pounding in his head and shoulder, but the thought of Gellert in the cabin with the Inferi propelled him out onto the street.

_Please, please let Gellert be OK, _he prayed desperately, not to any god in particular, but to the universe in general. If anything happened to Gellert, Albus didn't know what he would do. How long had Albus been unconscious for? Where would Gellert be now? Would Albus have to Apparate back to the woods in Sachsen to look for him?

Albus steeled himself. Much as he hated the thought of going back into that forest of death, he would do it to know that Gellert was safe. First, however, he would check Bathilda's house.

"Albus."

Albus spun around. Gellert was standing behind him, his arms crossed.

"Gellert!" Albus felt a surge of intense relief. A broad smile plastering itself across his face, he ran to Gellert and threw his arms around him.

"I'm so glad you're safe," he murmured, his head resting against Gellert's shoulder. After a few seconds he became embarrassed at his boldness and tried to retreat, but Gellert held onto him.

"You are injured," Gellert said, his fingers brushing against the bandages tied at Albus' arm and shoulder.

"Merely a few scratches." Albus was caught between excitement and fear at Gellert's touch. The last time he had been this close to Gellert, Gellert had recoiled from him and called him a queer. He could still hear the word echoing in his memory. It sounded like _kveer_, the way Gellert said it.

"Because of me. I'm sorry, Albus. I never intended for you to be hurt." There was a strangely troubled look on Gellert's face. He had a distant, preoccupied air about him, instead of his usual intense focus.

"I know." Albus frowned. "What happened to Elke?" he asked urgently. "I hope she's all right. I wouldn't have survived if it weren't for her."

"Do not worry about Elke. I took care of her. Come, let us take a walk."

Gellert slid his right arm through Albus' left.

Albus hesitated. "To be honest, Gellert, I don't feel up to walking very far."

"Then we shall not go far."

Still Albus refused to move. "What's this about? Forgive me for having reservations, but the last time I went walking with you, I almost died."

"I promise you, this time we shall only talk. Something is disturbing me."

Reluctantly, Albus gave in and allowed Gellert to lead him through the village. They walked in silence for several minutes, until they left the houses behind and came upon the rolling meadows on the outskirts of Godric's Hollow. Gellert cut into an empty field and pulled Albus down beside him on the grass, behind a hedge that would screen them from the view of anyone on the lane.

The field was spotted with wildflowers and spangled with drops of dew, glistening in the morning sun. Overhead the sky was a soft pastel blue, unblemished by clouds but for a few lazy wisps drifting here and there. Birds chirruped somewhere nearby, and occasionally a soft breeze would rustle the blades of grass and the leaves of the hedge, bringing the sweet mingled fragrances of grasses, herbs and flowers to their noses. Bees and beetles droned busily from bloom to bloom, dusting themselves in pollen, zipping through the air in flashes of jewel-bright colour. The whole land was filled with light and life, the very opposite of the dark forest they had left behind. The events of a few hours ago seemed like just a bad dream now.

Being alone with Gellert and so close to him made Albus feel deliciously weak, but he reminded himself not to let his guard down. Gellert was dangerous. It was hard to bear that in mind when he was so damned handsome and charming.

"You are lucky to live here," Gellert said. "It is beautiful. I was raised in a dark and sad country."

Concerned, Albus looked sidelong at Gellert. The blond boy's gaze was lowered, an unfamiliar emotion clouding his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Albus asked. Seeing Gellert so uncharacteristically melancholy, he felt a sudden urge to take Gellert's hand, but he lacked the courage.

"Sometimes I think you Britons are lucky. Your country is on an island, separated from all the troubles and problems of the rest of Europe. People here are cheerful and optimistic about the future. Your country is being developed, industry and trade are flourishing, science is advancing. Your government is a democracy and wealth is spreading to the common folk. When I walk in the streets, people look happy. They enjoy life.

"Things were very different in Germany when I was growing up. The German people were divided into different states, each ruled by selfish princes who cared only for themselves. Different powers and empires were always going to war, fighting for new territories: Prussia, Austria, the Turks, the Slavs, and all the rest of them. No one was safe from the greed of kings and czars. It was always the poor who suffered in wartime. While the tiny amount of rich and royalty lived in their golden palaces and mansions, the masses of people were too poor to afford basic necessities.

"The spirits of the German people have been worn down and broken by cunning and political manipulation. But slowly, Prussia took control of more and more territories, uniting all the Germans except for Austria. And now the German wizards are waiting for a new pride and purpose, to unite and reclaim their birthright as the leaders of European culture." Gellert paused and looked up at the sky, as if seeing the shining future that existed in his imagination. "When corruption is destroyed, and the traitorous Muggles are driven out of our government, and the true power of magic is unveiled, then Germany will enjoy a new golden age of peace and prosperity, a perfect society that will be the envy of all Europe."

There was a brief silence.

"That was a stirring speech," Albus said. "You seem to have a talent for speaking. With your power to inspire people, you should consider a career in politics. I'm not even German, and I feel like helping you build your German utopia."

Without replying, Gellert heaved a sigh and flung himself down on the grass. Lying on his stomach, he rested his chin on his hands.

Albus felt his eyes stray to Gellert's outstretched body, his gaze first drawn to Gellert's hair (shining like gold Galleons in the sun, brighter than wheat but darker than buttercups), resting briefly on Gellert's shoulders (broad and powerfully built), slipping down Gellert's back to linger guiltily on his buttocks (two divine curves swelling against the fabric of his robe) before finishing its perverted wanderings on Gellert's legs (strong and very nice-looking, not at all like the scrawny chicken legs Albus had).

Albus wondered what it would feel like to have Gellert's body lying against his. The grass beneath Gellert was sadly unable to appreciate just how fortunate it was. Perhaps if Albus Transfigured himself into a blade of grass… It wouldn't be a very good life, being at the mercy of the elements, in danger of being eaten by any passing cow, and shrivelling up and dying when winter came. But if someone like Gellert came along and lay down in a field once in a while, that would make life as a blade of grass worth living, a thousand times over.

Suddenly embarrassed, Albus blushed. _What's wrong with me? _he wondered guiltily. _I'm starting to think like a sexual deviant. At this rate, I'll turn into a dirty old man like Uncle Timothy, who whistles at anything in a skirt._

Forcing his eyes away from Gellert's body (they kept trying to sneak back), Albus slowly eased himself down on the grass beside the object of his infatuation.

"Is something wrong, Gellert?" he asked. "You seem a little run down this morning." Inside, a small part of his mind was watching Gellert and thinking, _If Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci had seen you, they would have slit their throats in despair, knowing they would never be able to capture your perfection by their art. And that's merely your body. What stone or canvas could hold the wild, angry soul that lives inside you? Only God's magnum opus, the Earth, holds a candle to your beauty. Your hair is sunlight on waving fields of wheat, your eyes are two sapphires torn from the entrails of the world, or the blue of the sky caught in a crystal clear pool of water. Your skin is smooth cream churned with a hint of gold._

_I think the gods must have been drunk on the day they made your body, because they forgot that they were making a lowly human, and they put too much of their own divine nature into you. The rest of us are mere mortals made of dust, and to dust we shall return. But you are made of something purer, something otherworldly, the stuff of angels. The stamp of God's handiwork, his superior craftsmanship, is on every inch of you. I think you were spun from stardust, woven with moonlight and forged in the fires of the sun. And that's just your body._

_When they were making your soul, they put in the fury of the tempest, the wildness of the gale, the wanderlust of lightning, the danger of the darkest woods, the mystery of night. The gods put all their rage and pain and courage and power into you and unleashed you on an unsuspecting world. I wonder what would happen if you were to give free rein to all the might and magic seething inside you. I bet Heaven and Earth would tremble in fear, and it would be beautiful and terrible to watch. I want to be by your side when you tear down the world and remake it in your image. _

_When I'm with you, I lose myself. Your personality overwhelms me, washes away my thoughts, overpowers my spirit, shakes me to the core of my soul. I don't know who I am any more. When I'm with you, I could be anyone or anything. It frightens me, yet I'm excited… there's so much I don't know about life, about love. I thought I could learn everything I needed to know from books, but the more time I spend with you, the more I learn about myself, things I never knew before. I must find out more. I have to know, what grand adventures lie before us?_

Gellert propped his head on his right arm. "I have been thinking," he said. "About life… and death." His eyes sought Albus'. "I am afraid."

Albus blinked. Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been an admission of fear. From what he'd seen so far, Gellert didn't appear to be afraid of anything.

"Afraid of what?" Albus asked.

"Of failure," Gellert said. "What if I never become Master of Death? What if it is all just a vain, foolish exercise? Since I was a little boy, I believed I could do anything I thought in my mind. There was no spell or feat of magic I could not achieve. I studied every branch of sorcery, even those forbidden by my foolish teachers. Each time I encountered problems or challenges, I was able to solve them. But then I read about how no wizard had conquered death, how no spell could wake the dead. And I wondered, if death is final, what is the point of our lives? Surely this problem has a solution like any other."

Albus asked, "Why did you start thinking about death from such a young age? Did something happen, someone in your family pass away? Forgive me for asking such a personal question."

"Ask me whatever you wish, Albus," Gellert said. "We are friends. I keep no secrets from you."

Albus felt a frisson of pleasure. _Are we only friends? Could we be something more? _He remembered that day in the churchyard, the feeling of Gellert's lips on his. He had been so full of hope that day. He had thought that Gellert was the most wonderful person he had ever met, not knowing then that Gellert was not all sweetness and light.

Gellert said, "When I was a little boy, I had a sister called Anna who was very sick all the time. She almost died during her birth, and after that Death would not leave her alone. My parents were always worried about her, so they did not have any time for me. Although they had little money, they spent a great deal on potions and Healers to make Anna better. But none of it worked." Gellert plucked a few blades of grass and rolled them between his fingers absentmindedly. "One day Anna died, and my father died soon after from grief. So my mother and I were all alone. It made me angry. Always before, I had been able to defeat my enemies. But I could not stop Death. It took away people I cared for. And I knew one day it would come for me too."

Gellert met Albus' gaze, his eyes softer, more subdued than usual. "I felt especially guilty because I never did like Anna. I resented her. My parents made me to look after her, and I hated being stuck with her all the time. Sometimes I even wished for her to be dead."

Albus was stunned. "You're just like me, Gellert. Death marked my family since I was young, too. It took both my parents, stole my childhood. And truth be told… " he hesitated, feeling guilty. "I sometimes resent having to look after Aberforth and Ariana. If it weren't for them…" _I would be travelling around the world with Elphias. And I never would have met you. I suppose I should thank them for that, then._

Gellert moved closer to Albus. "Yes, you and I are very similar in some ways. But different in others. You are fascinating, Albus."

"Fascinating? Really? How so?"

"You are the first person I have met who is as powerful as I am. But I wonder why you do not use your power to its fullest. At first I thought you might have been a coward, but then I saw the way you fought the Inferi in the cabin, and I knew that you had courage. You are a quick thinker and you use spells effectively. So I wonder, what is holding you back? Do you know something that I do not? Perhaps I am missing something I need to complete my studies. I am curious to know what is inside your mind."

Gellert's face was right beside Albus' now. Albus could feel Gellert's warm breath on his cheek. He looked into Gellert's eyes, but he found that he couldn't read them. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then Gellert's soul was hidden from the outside world by walls of cold blue steel.

Albus said, "I don't know that what's in my mind is so special, really."

"Oh, but it is," Gellert said. "The wand knows the wizard. I have been having strange dreams of you, Albus."

"Dreams? What kind of dreams?"

"You have had them too, have you not? Dreams of me."

With a sick feeling, Albus remembered the disturbing visions that had haunted him since the day he'd visited the temple with Gellert.

"What did you do to me?" he said, his eyes boring into Gellert's.

"It was not I alone. You let me in. Our thoughts are intertwining because we are close to each other. The power inside you recognises the power inside me. We are of one kind."

"I don't understand."

"Tell me, Albus. What is holding you back?"

"Magic is dangerous." In his mind's eye, Albus saw the dungeon, his father disappearing behind the door between two Dementors. "Magic has to be controlled, studied with detachment. You can't just rush into it. You can't just give in to your feelings, because someone could be hurt. Magic is dangerous."

"Yes," said Gellert. "This is what makes it exciting." With his hand, he swept back a few strands of Albus' hair, tucking them behind his ear. His fingers gently brushed against Albus' cheek. "You are quite handsome, Albus. You look a bit like a girl." His thumb traced Albus' jawline. "Perhaps you should give in to your feelings once in a while."

Albus closed his eyes and shuddered at Gellert's touch. "No. My family has strong magic and strong emotions. Not a good combination. We have to stay in control, otherwise it overwhelms us. I can't afford to make a mistake. I need to stay in control all the time. My family depends on me. I have to look after Aberforth and Ariana."

"And who looks after you, Albus?"

"No one. I take care of myself."

"So do I. I always rely on myself. But I find it is lonely sometimes, yes?"

"Yes," said Albus. He opened his eyes, saw Gellert's beautiful face so close to his that it made his heart ache. "What do you know about loneliness, Gellert?" he said bitterly. "You have Elke, and gods know how many other girlfriends in Germany. And all the girls in Godric's Hollow are mad about you. You have people throwing themselves at you wherever you go. You'll never understand what it's like to be me." Albus felt tears prick his eyes and a lump form in his throat.

"You are wrong, Albus. I am as alone as you are. It is true, many girls have touched my body. But none of them have touched my soul. All they are good for is fucking. They would never understand me. They have no intelligence, no magic, no power, nothing."

The tears overflowed Albus' eyes and wended down his cheeks. "You expect me to believe that? That you never felt anything for them? I saw the way Elke looked at you!" It came out sounding like an accusation. Albus hadn't meant to sound so jealous.

Gellert snorted. "Is that bothering you? Elke? Of course she was mad about me, but I never felt anything for her. All I did was fuck her a few times. You think I loved any of those girls? There are no girls worthy of my love. All they have of use is a pair of tits and a cunt. They have nothing else that interests me. They are stupid, gullible, weak, vain and childish. To get them into bed, you simply have to tell them flattering lies, and afterwards they cry and bitch about how you do not love them. To be honest, I cannot stand them."

Gellert shook his head. "To love is a position of weakness, to make yourself vulnerable, to put yourself in the power of another person. How could I fall in love with a _woman? _I would never put myself in the power of the inferior sex. All of them are not worthy of me."

"You mustn't speak that way," said Albus. "Elke really cares about you. You have no right to speak about her with such disrespect."

"Oh? I am merely speaking the truth. I am sorry, I forgot about your soft heart. I know how the truth offends you."

"The truth doesn't offend me. Only your version of it, because it is devoid of the milk of human kindness."

"You have a large vocabulary, Albus. I suppose you are knowledgeable in the language of the brain, but you know nothing about the language of the heart and the body."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I have noticed that you spend all your time thinking and studying. I suppose it helps you to ignore what you are feeling."

"I don't ignore what I'm feeling. In fact I'm very in touch with my feelings. Provided they are proper."

"Oh? Then tell me what you are feeling right now."

"I…" Albus hesitated.

Gellert smirked. "You see? You are afraid to be honest about your feelings. You are afraid, because deep down you know that you are just like me."

"That's not true! I'm nothing like you."

"Are you not? Did you not just say that you resented your brother and sister? Isn't true that you wish you did not have to look after them?"

"Well, yes, maybe I have those thoughts sometimes. But unlike you, I actually care about people. I would never claim to love someone and then abuse them behind their back. And I care about my family. I have a duty to them."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I suppose… because I love them."

"Why?"

"Because they're my family."

"Is that why? Is that reason good enough? I have met your brother and sister, and they don't have your power or your brilliance. Why should they be worthy of your love?"

"You don't love people because of power!" Albus exclaimed. "That's a terrible reason to love someone."

"Is it? Is your reason better? You love someone just because they're born in your family, which is pure chance. Would you love your brother if he was a mass murderer?"

"Well… I don't know. Yes, probably. You have to love your family, don't you? Otherwise you don't have anyone."

There was a brief pause.

"You have me," Gellert said. He slid on top of Albus, his body pressing Albus' into the grass.

"What are you doing?" Albus asked. The feeling of Gellert's body against his almost drove him mad with longing.

"Albus, I once thought your soft heart as a weakness, but now I am wondering whether there are some things from you I have to learn. And perhaps you could learn from me."

Gellert's fingers stroked Albus' hair, his breath hot on Albus' neck. His chin, slightly rough with light stubble, rubbed against Albus' cheek. His arms slid around Albus, enfolding him in a warm embrace, pinning his arms to his sides.

"Be honest to your feelings," Gellert murmured in Albus' ear. "If we are so different, why do you feel attraction for me?"

"I – I don't know what you mean," Albus spluttered.

"A lie. You saw how Elke looked at me? Well, I have seen how _you _look at me."

_Am I really that obvious? _Albus wondered. _Was it so easy for Gellert to read me? I've never been very good at hiding my emotions. I wish I were as inscrutable as Gellert. _

Albus felt Gellert's lips on the back of his neck, Gellert's broad chest pressing on his back, the warm weight of Gellert's body crushing him into the sweet grass. The breath was being driven out of his lungs, yet he wanted to stay in Gellert's arms forever. Even if he suffocated, it would be worth it.

"Perhaps I did feel something for you in the beginning," said Albus, "but I'm not sure I do any more. You punched me and called me a queer. You led me into a death trap. You seem to think that it's fun to recklessly put yourself in danger. And listening to the way you speak about Elke and those other girls who were foolish enough to trust you, you seem hard-hearted and incapable of loving anyone. You don't even care about me at all. You just think my powers will be useful to you."

"That is not true. I do care about you, Albus, in a way I have not cared about anyone before. You see, there is something different about you. A mystery."

"I bet that's what you said to Elke. And all those other girls, too."

"Yes, but I was lying to them. They were weak, shallow and simple to understand. You are complicated. There is much going on inside you that is strange to me. I can see there is hidden strength here. There are layers in you which I have yet to… penetrate. I am always curious for new experiences, and I like a challenge."

"Is that all I am to you?" Albus said bitterly. "Another puzzle, a challenge to solve? A new experience, like learning a new spell or riding a new broomstick? Another notch to add to your belt? Can you even see other people as people? Is there room in your world-view for anybody else's feelings? I'm a person, not an obstacle course, or a new toy. Can't you see that?"

Gellert laughed in Albus' ear. "This is why I like you, Albus," he said. "You are cute when you try to be angry. And you are brave to stand up to me, which not many people can do. Yes, maybe I am sometimes a bit selfish. Growing up, I was mostly alone. I did not have a close family like you, so maybe I have difficulty knowing how to be considerate of other people. Perhaps you can teach me." He chuckled. "My great-aunt has a very high opinion of you. She thinks you can civilise me. I told her that I wish you good luck, but I am not sure you can succeed when twelve years of school have failed."

He kissed Albus' ear, then his cheek. "Also, I do see you as a person. A very special person. And I need your help, just as you need mine. We are two of the most powerful wizards in the world. We can bring out the best in each other. Just think what we can achieve if we work together. We can create magic the world has never seen before. We can destroy death, bring back your parents. Don't you want that?"

Albus' body and mind were throbbing with the sweetness of Gellert's kisses. How was he supposed to think clearly, to resist, with Gellert's lips on his face? "What kind of magic do you want to create? Dark magic?"

"There is no such thing as Dark magic. That is just a name given by people who are scared to explore certain kinds of power."

"Like Inferi? Because that is Dark magic. I told you, people can get hurt. Magic is dangerous -"

"Yes, it's dangerous!" growled Gellert. "Nothing worth doing in life is without a risk. We have to be bold, not afraid. So long as we believe in ourselves, we will survive. Fear not, Albus. I will be with you."

"I don't know…"

"For once in your life, don't be cautious. Don't worry for what others will think. Trust your instincts, follow your own feelings. What does your heart say?"

"My heart? My heart says… that you are dangerous. That you are cruel and callous. That you are wild and violent and uncontrollable. That if I follow you, I might lose myself and end up being hurt."

"And?"

"And… it also says that I should be with you. Because if I don't go with you, I'll always wonder how my life would have turned out."

"Good. Because my heart says that you are a weak, soft, sissy boy who is too frightened to make use of his powers. But for some reason, I feel that I should be with you, too."

Albus twisted his body so that his right cheek was under Gellert's lips.

"Gellert…"

"Yes?"

"Did you mean what you said about being honest about our feelings? About not being cautious, not caring what anyone thinks?"

"Yes."

"Then I want you to kiss me. Hard. Right on the lips." Albus could hardly believe what he was saying.

For an instant, Gellert's eyebrows rose in surprise. Then they fell again, and a wicked, sly grin spread across his face. "You learn quickly, Albus." He rolled Albus onto his back and leaned over him. Gellert's hair was deliciously rumpled, his face so handsome with its cheeky smile, a merry, impish light dancing in his blue-fire eyes.

Albus felt he must have died and gone to heaven. How could someone so beautiful be interested in someone like him? It must be a dream, but no dream could be this intense.

Gellert's lips fell like thunderbolts on Albus' mouth, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his face. Albus closed his eyes and shuddered with pure unadulterated bliss. Gellert's kisses moved from Albus' mouth, radiating outwards to cover his whole face and neck, leaving echoes that burned like fire and sent Albus' skin into paroxysms of delight. Gellert moved lower, trailing kisses down Albus' chest.

"Wait," Albus gasped, frightened, as Gellert's fingers fumbled at Albus' robe. "Stop, Gellert."

"Is this not what you want?" Gellert said, caressing Albus' throat with his fingers.

_More than you could know. _"Things are moving too quickly. I need time. I've never done this before. I want to take it slowly."

Gellert didn't move. "You are just nervous." His fingers dug into Albus' throat again. "Perhaps if I - "

"No, Gellert!" Albus snapped. "Stop!" He didn't know why, but he was terrified of going further. Kissing Gellert had already taken all the courage he had. He wanted Gellert so badly, but another part of him was holding him back. What he was doing was wrong, improper. He couldn't afford to let his guard down. He would only end up being hurt. Sex was dirty, scary and shameful.

There was a moment of silence.

"As you wish, Albus." Slowly, Gellert lifted himself off Albus and sat beside him. He didn't look too pleased.

Albus rose to a sitting position and brushed grass off his robe. _I bet Gellert hates me now. Hold on. He doesn't even like boys. What were we doing? _It hadn't occurred to him, but the moment was ruined now.

"What do you wish to do now?" Gellert asked.

Albus slipped his hand into Gellert's.

"Shall we go for a walk?" he said. "It's a nice day."

Gellert smiled. "Yes. This time, you lead."

As they walked across the emerald turf, Albus leaned his head on Gellert's shoulder. The countryside had never looked more beautiful to him than today, with Gellert by his side.


	14. No Relief

"Here's a nice spot," Albus said, turning back to look at Gellert. "I often stop here, by the river."

Gellert was walking a little distance behind Albus, observing the scenery, their broomsticks tucked under his left arm.

"A good choice," he agreed, with a nod. "Let us set up the picnic here."

After returning to Bathilda's house to pick up a couple of broomsticks and some food, they had flown into the hills cradling Godric's Hollow and landed in one of Albus' favourite places: a wide, sunny glade bordered on one side by a burbling stream and on the other by bright woodland.

Stooping, Albus spread a blanket over the ground and placed a picnic hamper on it to stop it from flying away in the wind.

"Why are you doing this with your hands?" Gellert asked, the breeze tugging at wisps of his flaxen hair.

"My father said we oughtn't to use magic for menial tasks," Albus replied, spreading out another blanket. "He said that magic should be treated with respect and only used for important things. Also, doing things manually gives us exercise and helps keep us fit."

"I see." Gellert stacked the broomsticks in one corner of a blanket and arranged a couple of hampers on the other end. "This looks nice and cosy." He took a bottle of wine and a couple of wineglasses from one of the hampers, popped the cork and filled the glasses almost to the brim. "Here," he said, offering one of them to Albus.

"I don't usually drink," Albus said.

"It was chilly up in the sky. Flying a broomstick always makes me cold. Drink this glass of wine all at once, it will make you warm and to feel nice."

Reluctantly, Albus took the wineglass. Grasping it by the stem, he held it aloft and watched the sunlight filtering through the pale yellow wine, bubbles fizzing and rising through the liquid to burst on the surface.

Gellert downed his wine in one gulp, licked his lips appreciatively and refilled his glass from the bottle. "Come now, what are you waiting for?" he said, when he saw that Albus' glass was untouched. "Are you afraid of wine? Don't be like a girl."

"I'm not afraid." Albus brought the glass to his lips and drained it in one swallow. The wine burned as it slid down his throat, making him cough and splutter.

Gellert laughed and thumped Albus on the back. "Go easy now. You don't have to force yourself. I was just teasing you, I already know you are brave." Gellert made short work of his second glass, smacking his lips. "Even your wines are tasting nice here. Have some more," he added, thrusting the bottle in Albus' direction.

"No, thank you."

"I insist! What, are you a little girl?" He refilled Albus' glass. "Drink it in one. And try to keep it down this time."

"I really don't know…"

"Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!"

Albus upended the glass and tipped its contents down his throat. Although it burned, he was careful not to show any discomfort this time.

"There!" he said, absurdly proud.

"Wunderbar!" Gellert beamed and thumped Albus on the back again, almost knocking him off his feet this time.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Albus asked.

"Maybe," said Gellert, with a mischievous look. "I wonder what you would be like when you let down your guard."

"Well, you can keep wondering," Albus said, placing his wineglass on the blanket. "I've had more than enough to drink for today. Let's go for a walk in the woods now. I can show you how wonderful this place is. Once we've worked up an appetite, we can come back here and have lunch by the stream."

"Lead on, my boy. Wherever you go, there I shall follow you." Gellert took a long swill from the bottle before corking it and dropping it by his feet.

"Gellert, that's unhygienic." Albus made a face.

"What? You said you are not drinking any more. Besides, our lips already touched, so why can't we share a bottle?"

Albus shook his head, moved to Gellert's side and grabbed his hand. "Come on. I can see I'll have to keep you busy, or else you'll destroy the whole picnic." Albus began to march, pulling Gellert after him.

"Well, well," Gellert said. "How bold you are becoming, Albus! I suppose the wine worked, yes? Dragging me by the hand as though I'm your house-elf? Interesting, I like this side of you. Now you are starting to show a bit of spirit."

"I have plenty of spirit, Gellert."

"Good. Show it to me."

"When I'm ready. There's a time for everything under the sun. One has to be patient."

"Bah. Being patient is boring."

"That's too bad, you'll just have to live with it."

They crossed the glade, crushing the lush, springy grass under their boots, and entered the forest. Albus felt his heart lightening as it always did in these beautiful surrounds. The hot midsummer sun blazed through the leafy canopy and dappled the forest floor, filling the woods with jade-tinted light. The air, perfumed with rich fruity and flowery scents, hummed with colourful insect life.

"Summer is a beautiful season," said Albus. "Not quite as pretty and colourful as spring, perhaps. There aren't as many wildflowers, because the deer eat them. But in summer the land is heavy with life. Look at all the vibrant shades of green."

"Look, a rabbit!" Gellert pointed at a small brown creature sitting atop a fallen log.

"That's not a rabbit, that's a hare."

"What is the difference?"

"Well, they actually have quite different lifestyles. A hare is a creature of the open spaces. It lives its whole life above ground. It flees danger by running, and it's one of the swiftest animals around. The rabbit, on the other hand, is an underground creature. When danger threatens, it flees to its burrow. It's not quite as fast as a hare, but it's much better at digging. You can spot the difference pretty easily, with a bit of practice. You see, the hare's body is long and streamlined to suit its running habits. It's also a bit bigger and lighter in colour, and its ears are longer and tipped with black. The rabbit is smaller, rounder and darker."

"Interesting," Gellert said. He drew his wand and pointed it at the hare.

"What are you doing?" Albus asked, frowning.

"Hunting."

"What? No!" Albus grabbed Gellert's wand arm and tried to drag it away. The hare, startled by the sudden movement, streaked away like a bolt of furry brown lightning.

Gellert said, "Now it's gone away! What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with _you? _I didn't bring you up here to hunt!"

"But you said we were going to see a lot of interesting animals."

"Yes, but not to _kill _them."

"What are we going to do, then? Just look at them?"

"Yes!"

"Where is the fun in that?"

"I don't see the fun in wantonly destroying lives!"

Gellert shrugged. "As you please. I am your guest."

"Put your wand away. You won't need it." Albus watched sharply until Gellert's wand was safely stowed in his pocket.

"You must have studied specimens of animals before. Why are you afraid of killing them?"

"It's one thing to kill for food or science. That's bad enough, but it can be justified. Killing for sport is inexcusable. When we came to these woods, my father always said we should respect Nature."

"They're just animals."

"So? They have a right to live, same as anything else."

They walked on in silence for a while.

"You have a lot of respect for your father, don't you?" Gellert said.

Albus glanced at Gellert. "Yes, I suppose I do. Why do you ask?"

"This is the second time you have quoted his advice."

Albus walked a little faster, stirring fallen leaves and watching the bright blue damselflies dance through the air. It was painful to be reminded of his father, especially in this place. "Percival Dumbledore was a very good man," he said. "Kind, wise, gentle and loving. He loved life and respected all of it." Albus wouldn't cry. Not today, not now.

"Lucky for you," said Gellert. "My father was a complete bastard. He was drunken, violent and cruel to his children. I was glad when he died."

Albus was taken aback. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at Gellert in surprise, but as usual Gellert's expression gave nothing away. He might as well have been talking about the weather.

"Don't be sorry. Sometimes I think he was not even my real father. He did not look like me. He was ugly and stupid. I think he hated me because he thought my mother had an affair, and I was someone else's son. Also… he was Hungarian. And I look German."

Albus was puzzled. "What do Hungarians look like? Surely not so different from Germans?"

"They are short, dark and dirty. I am tall with yellow hair and blue eyes."

"I'm sure some Germans have dark hair, don't they?"

"They are not pure Germans. They must be mixed with invaders like the Turk, Mongol and Gypsy."

Albus was silent, but privately he thought that Gellert's racial theories had little basis in reality.

They moved deeper into the forest, Albus keeping an eye out for all the different plants and animals.

"Cheeky little things," Albus said fondly, pointing out the red squirrels scampering through the branches above, displaying incredible agility. "They love nuts. They hide them in autumn and somehow remember exactly where they are when spring comes. Here, let's feed them." He took a paper bag of walnuts from his pocket and tipped them into his palm. "They're very shy, but one or two of them are pluckier than the rest."

He left the walnuts at the base of a tree and waited in silence for a few minutes, while the squirrels watched suspiciously from overhead. Eventually, a few of them streaked down to the ground and gathered the walnuts, chittering excitedly. Albus was enchanted.

"Aren't they lovely?" he said.

"Yes," said Gellert, but when Albus turned his head, he saw that Gellert was watching him rather than the squirrels.

Albus felt a flush creeping into his cheeks. "Let's keep moving."

There were all kinds of birds twittering, chirping, singing and screeching in the trees: thrushes, sparrows, swallows, finches, tits, jays, cuckoos and others.

"I love the swallows," Albus said. "They have those two amazing streamers that trail from their tails. They're such acrobatic, swift flyers. They're harbingers of spring, too. You see, they all fly away to Africa for the winter and come back for the warm spring weather. So when you see the first swallow of the season, you know that winter is over and the new year is on its way at last. The best part is, they often build nests in barns and other wooden buildings, so you can watch them from up close. We had a nest in our barn last year. The baby swallows are the tiniest little things." Albus smiled at the memory. Ariana had loved to watch the swallows too. It was rare for Albus and Ariana to share an interest, and the two of them had become quite close over it, much to Aberforth's jealousy.

Albus looked at Gellert. "I'm not boring you, am I?" he asked anxiously. "If you're not interested in all this, just say the word."

"Not at all!" Gellert took Albus' hand. His hand was bigger and warmer than Albus', enfolding it like a glove. "I did not know all these things. Show me more."

Albus beamed. How many times had he walked these beautiful woods alone? Now he had someone to share this precious place with, it seemed even more wonderful than before.

"You know what would be good, if we could camp out here at night," he said excitedly. "There are lots of owls around here. My favourite are the barn owls. They're so beautiful, with their heart-shaped faces, their elegant little beaks and their pale feathers. Have you seen a barn owl before?"

"I don't know. I don't know what the German name for barn owl is. I have seen owls before, but they were ugly."

"Those weren't barn owls. If you'd seen one, you would've known. They are the nocturnal angels of the owl world." Albus craned his neck, staring up at the sky. "Sometimes you can see kestrels flying overhead. They're nice birds, too. They're birds of prey, of course. They eat all kinds of rodents and smaller birds. The males are my favourite. They have these gorgeous grey-blue heads."

"Yes," Gellert said with a laugh. "You like the males, yes?"

Albus glared at him, embarrassed. "Male birds. They're usually brighter and more colourful than the females. The females are usually drab and brown."

"And what about male humans? Do you like them also? Are they more beautiful than the females?" Gellert's face wore a cheeky grin.

"I'm going to ignore that," Albus said huffily.

"What about me? Do you think I am beautiful?"

After a pause, Albus said softly, "You don't have to ask me. You know you are. Everyone says so."

"But I am asking what you think."

Albus shrugged. "Not too bad, I suppose."

"Not too bad! Is that all?" Pulling on Albus' arm, Gellert drew Albus into his chest and clamped his arms around him.

"Let me go," Albus protested, struggling to break free, but Gellert's arms were far too strong.

"Not yet," said Gellert. His face was ruddy and his breath smelt of wine. "You have hurted my feelings, Albus. Now I am offended."

"Oh, come now," Albus said. "What will it take to make you let me go?"

"Tell me how very handsome I am."

Albus snorted. "You have a huge ego."

"That is true. Also, I have a huge…"

"Gellert!"

"Yes? I was going to say 'wand'. I don't know what your dirty mind was thinking."

Albus had to laugh. "You are a character, you know that?"

"Still waiting."

"All right, I'll give you what you want. I think you're very handsome. There, are you satisfied?"

Gellert leaned Albus against the trunk of a nearby tree. He was somehow even more gorgeous with his face all red and his hair scruffy. He leaned in until his nose was barely touching Albus'.

"There," Gellert said. "Was that so hard?"

"You know what else is so hard?" Albus said.

Gellert drew back a little in surprise. "Albus!"

"What? I was going to say 'this tree'. I don't know what your dirty mind was thinking."

Gellert laughed uproariously. "I like you, Albus."

"I like you too."

Gellert leaned in and brushed his lips against Albus'.

Albus turned his head away. "You smell like wine."

"Albus, I am starting to think you are not liking me. Any girl would kill for a chance at kissing me, and all you can say is I smell like wine."

"Well, it's true." Albus didn't know if it was the two glasses of wine he'd drunk or Gellert's touch, but he felt incredible. His blood was boiling and energy was surging through him. He felt like laughing, singing, jumping up to touch the sky. He felt on top of the world, like he could do anything. "Catch me if you can," he said, slipping away from Gellert and running off.

He heard Gellert curse and give chase, his footsteps crashing loudly on the forest floor. Gellert would almost certainly be faster in a straight line, but Albus was weaving through the trees, and he knew this forest better than Gellert did.

"Come on, slow coach!" Albus called. He could see Gellert moving out of the corner of his eye.

"You wait, Albus! See what I will do to you when I get you."

"You'll have to catch me first. Doesn't look as though you will, at this rate!"

Albus raced along the forest floor, kicking up sprays of dried brown leaves, darting through clouds of many-hued butterflies, leaping over a small pond and ploughing through a patch of wild strawberry bushes. He ran until his heart was pounding in his chest, before coming to a stop and turning around.

"Gellert?" he said. There was no reply. Before him, the forest was filled with insect and bird life, but there was a distinct lack of blond German boys. Albus took a few steps forward, looking around in every direction, but as far as he could tell, he was the only human being in sight. "Gellert!" he called again, worried now. What if Gellert had gotten lost? Albus would have to go back and look for him. He took a couple more paces forward.

"Raar!" Something roared and barrelled into Albus from behind, making him yelp with fright, knocking him to the ground and sending him tumbling through the leaves. Coming to a rest on his back, he blinked a few times to clear his vision, and realised that Gellert was on top of him, pinning him to the ground.

"Hah! I have caught you."

Albus squirmed. "What are you doing, Gellert? You scared me half to death!"

"I am hunting. The rabbit ran away, but I have caught an English boy instead. Now I shall eat you for lunch. Haha!"

Gellert buried his face in Albus' neck, kissing him hard. Albus closed his eyes and sighed as Gellert's mouth pressed into the sensitive skin of his neck, moving to his throat and his shoulder, sending shivers through his body. He felt Gellert's teeth grazing softly against his skin, when suddenly –

"Ow!" Albus' eyes flew open. "Gellert, you bit me! That hurts!"

"Yes," Gellert growled. "It should hurt. Now I will punish you for running away."

"I wish you wouldn't bite me. Stop that."

"I don't care what you wish. You are mine now."

"What's that supposed to mean? I don't belong to you."

"Do you not? Look in my eyes, Albus."

Albus did as he was told. Gellert's eyes were cold as ice, so cold they sent chills piercing through Albus' abdomen. Albus trembled and his body went limp, subsiding into the soil. He took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of Gellert's body, a surprisingly strong, pungent smell with musky overtones that bludgeoned his nostrils and went straight to his brain, making him feel light-headed. It was a scent that perfectly matched Gellert's personality: bold, overpowering and aggressively masculine.

Albus felt himself growing hard. He twisted himself sideways, embarrassed by his body's betrayal of his self-control, trying to hide the signs of his arousal.

He said, "Gellert. Let me up now, you've had your fun."

"The fun is just beginning."

"I mean it, Gellert. Let me up. I want to show you something special."

"So do I." Gellert nuzzled the side of Albus' neck. "Touch me, Albus," he murmured.

"No. I don't want to."

"Another lie. Your body tells me the truth. You want to touch me."

Albus closed his eyes, savouring the hot weight of Gellert's body pressing against his own. "No," he said weakly, but he didn't sound very convincing, even to himself.

Gellert's hand closed around Albus' and guided it along Gellert's body, pressing it against the fabric of his robe. Through the cloth, Albus could feel something hard and warm.

"I bet my surprise is better than yours," whispered Gellert. He slipped Albus' hand under his robe and into his underwear.

Albus felt something hot, long, hard and fleshy under his palm. Gellert began to pull Albus' wrist up and down, up and down, rubbing Albus' hand against his cock.

It took Albus a few moments to understand what was happening. When he realised that he was touching Gellert's… well...

"Gellert!" He tried to pull his hand away, but Gellert's fingers were tight around his wrist.

"Keep going, Albus," Gellert said in his ear. "You know you want to."

"No! I told you, I don't want this. Not so fast. Please."

"What are you scared of?"

"I don't know!" Albus shouted. "Just let me go!"

Gellert ripped Albus' hand out of his robes and let it drop to the ground. He rolled off Albus and rose into a crouch, slamming his fist on the ground in anger.

"This is the second time you stopped me!" he roared, his face twisted with fury. "I ought to bend you over and fuck you right now, like the little bitch you are! I am very… frustrated. Make up your fucking mind, Albus!"

Albus rolled away and rose to his feet, his eyes wide. He wrung his hands, watching Gellert nervously. Gellert was frightening when angry, and he had never spoken so harshly to Albus before.

"What are you talking about?" Albus said, torn between concern and fear.

"You are a little tease!" Gellert snarled, stabbing an accusing finger at him. "Just like all those bitches. You think this is funny, you think you can play games with me? I'll teach you a lesson like I taught them. I'll snap you like a twig, you little bitch!" His blue eyes were narrowed to wolfish slits of rage, his lips curling back to reveal clenched white teeth. Hunched over in his crouch, he looked like a wild beast ready to lunge.

Albus took a couple of steps backward, the urge to run growing stronger by the second. "I don't know what you mean, Gellert!" he said wretchedly. "I thought we were coming up here for a picnic and a walk in the woods, that's all. I honestly don't know why you're so angry with me." He couldn't stand Gellert being mad at him.

"Yes, a walk in the woods," Gellert spat. "Just the two of us. As if you don't know what that means!" He paused and blinked. "Oh. You… you really don't know what that means, do you?" Slowly, the anger began draining from his face like water swirling from an emptying sink. "You have never done this before. I forgot. Oh, gods. What have I done?" He exhaled slowly and seemed to deflate slightly, rubbing his face with his hand. Heaving a great sigh, he said, "Forgive me, Albus. I thought you were doing it on purpose, but… it was my mistake."

"Are we still quarrelling, Gellert?" Albus asked timidly. Gellert might be slightly calmer than before, but he still had an edgy, dangerous look on his face that Albus didn't like.

"No. It was a mistake on my part, I had too much wine. When you said you will show me something special, I thought..."

"I was going to show you a special place, where the deer browse. I still will, if you promise not to hunt them."

"All right, then." Gellert sighed and lay back. With his right hand he fingered the crotch of his robes. "I am still feeling frustrated," he said grumpily. "I suppose you won't help me… relieve myself?"

"No," Albus said firmly, sounding braver than he felt.

"Fine, then. You go an ahead to the deer place. I will meet up with you soon. I need a few minutes to myself."

Albus hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Go now. If you stay, I won't be responsible for what will happen."

That was all the confirmation Albus needed. For the past few minutes, his gut had been screaming at him that he should be far away from Gellert right now. He turned and half ran, half walked away, refusing to let himself look back despite the temptation.

He thought, _Lot's wife might have disobeyed God, but she would have listened if Gellert had told her. And a pillar of salt is nothing compared to what Gellert might do to me if I look back._

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

**Next Update:** Plan to have it up on Saturday 31 December. May be sooner or later depending on circumstances. Currently having family issues.

Thank you to all those who left kind reviews. Without you, I would have run out of steam long ago. Please keep reading and reviewing, it helps keep me motivated.

I was giving myself two weeks to write a longer chapter, but I decided to split it in half and publish the first half now. Partly because people were sweet enough to say they were eagerly waiting for an update, especially Em, who said she was checking every day.

I don't think Albus should be with Gellert. Run, Albus, run! You stupid boy.

ThisLittlePiggyStayedHome: Thank you so much. I'm usually pretty detached from my stories, but I'm getting into this one and now I feel sorry for Albus too. He needs a good friend to tell him that Gellert isn't good enough for him.

Mystic Eye Girl: Wow, I've never set the standard for anything before, except being a lazy slacker. I'm flattered. Re:smex, hmm, what is it with ffnet and horny readers? I have been remiss with the romance, it's true. I made you guys wade through 30 000 words and it's only just hotting up now. You could sue me for false advertising, because I labelled this Romance/Drama, but it's been more like Drama/Action so far. Sorry, I can't promise loads of juicy erotica immediately, because Albus is repressed and even a rampaging sex god like Gellert probably will take time to crack his shell, but let's keep our fingers crossed. Thank you for your kind comments.

KnightKat: In your review for chap 12, you gave me some really great advice on writing, beautifully expressed. I really needed to be reminded of that. Thank you for always being there to encourage me. Don't worry, although I love hearing feedback from readers, at the end of the day I'll always write the story the way it feels right to me, for better or for worse. I know that I have to write my own story, not someone else's. Some readers will like one chapter more than others, because we all have different tastes and my writing is not everyone's cup of tea. Thanks again for everything.

Em: Your review meant so much to me. It put a huge smile on my face. You really know how to make a writer feel fantastic with your lavish praise. I'm publishing this chapter early for you, though once you've read it, you might wish that I had waited, because now you'll be wondering what'll happen next... I'm evil like that. Mwahaha. Thanks again for being so generous with your reviews.


	15. Albus Makes Up His Mind

_Now the body not for fornication, but for the Lord; and the Lord for the body._

_... he that commiteth fornication sinneth against his own body._

**- 1 Corinthians**

About three miles west of the clearing where they'd set up their picnic, the woods opened up into another glade watered by a gently flowing stream. Here the grass grew soft and lush, and deer were drawn from all over the hills to feast on the tender flowering plants that appeared in abundance, and slake their thirst with the fresh, icy waters of the river. Often when he was feeling low, Albus had shrouded himself with a Disillusionment Charm and sat in the shadow of the trees at the clearing's edge, watching the deer go about their daily business. It had filled him with a sense of peace to observe the grand saga of nature unfolding around him, unknowing and uncaring of the petty dramas of human civilisation.

Today, however, he was preoccupied with thoughts of Gellert. It had been almost fifteen minutes since he'd left Gellert alone in the forest. As he'd walked through the woods, he'd tried not to think about what had happened, tried to recapture the feeling of contentment usually inspired in him by the sight of the trees stretching out their slender limbs in the wind, their vivid green leaves quivering. Yet his mind kept replaying the same thoughts again and again, agitating itself without respite.

Gellert had been furious with him, and now Albus understood why. "Make up your fucking mind, Albus," Gellert had said. Albus did feel a powerful attraction to Gellert, unlike anything he had ever felt before in his life. Yet every time Gellert tried to be intimate with him, Albus pulled away. What was wrong with him?

Whenever Gellert touched him, it filled him with sensations both alien and achingly familiar. He had never been touched like that before, never known the gentle caress of another's hands. Yet it resonated with him on the deepest level, this wonderful magic of Gellert's, every cell of his body singing in response to the blond boy's touch, as though this passion was something he had always known but had simply forgotten, like a childhood nursery rhyme lost for years until memory was rekindled by a chance encounter.

Albus had spent nearly his entire life in small country villages, first Mould-on-the-Wold, and later Godric's Hollow. As a result, he had never received much in the way of sex education before going to school at the age of eleven. There were no dirty magazines in Godric's Hollow, no erotic novels, no seedy nightclubs, no means of learning about the mysterious, alluring, adult world of carnal relations.

True, there were a large number of farms in the village, and it was obvious to any observant child that each year's fresh crop of squealing piglets, big-eyed calves and gambolling lambs was the direct result of the energetic activities of the preceding breeding season. But how little insight the frenzied rutting of bulls and cows offered into the complex entanglements of human love and sexuality!

All Albus had learnt on this subject as a child, he had pieced together from fragments gleaned from his parents, other children and reading materials. Other children, in particular, were rich seams of information, but the things they said were so bizarre that he wouldn't believe them until he could confirm them by other sources. His parents, learned and literate, were only too happy to answer his questions on most topics, but when it came to this particular subject they averted their eyes and gave him half-formed answers, until he realised that they were too embarrassed to be of any help.

It was generally known to the children of the village that boys had willies and girls didn't, that boys liked flying around, duelling and playing Quidditch, while girls liked enchanted dolls and playing dress-up, that boys and girls hated each other until they reached a terrifying age called puberty, at which they transformed into love-struck monsters who couldn't get enough of each other, and who went on mysterious outings called "dates", and did pointless things like walking around while holding each other's hands, giggling, and giving each other flowers and chocolates.

Soon after, their parents or the parish priest would give them a talk involving cryptic phrases such as "being careful", "the birds and the bees", "the miracle of life" and "the family way". One thing would lead to another, and sooner or later the young men and women would find themselves married to each other, and that was that. Sometimes the talk would fail to have the desired effect, and a young couple would find themselves rushed into a wedding, or else a girl would be sent off to stay with a distant aunt, and the adults of the village would mutter darkly and shake their heads at the things young people got up to these days, conveniently forgetting that they'd gotten up to the same things in their own youth.

That was the scope of most children's sex education in Godric's Hollow. It was a small, simple village with practical people who were quite content with their lot in life, and who didn't ask too many questions, knowing instinctively that questions led to unnecessary complications. The boys in Godric's Hollow would grow up to be farmers, woodcutters or merchants like their fathers. The girls would grow up to be seamstresses, nannies or washerwomen like their mothers. The average villager was capable of only very simple magic, enough to enchant an axe to chop wood, or to levitate a basket of laundry.

And into this small, sleepy village had come the Dumbledores, a family blessed (or perhaps cursed) by whatever gods existed with too much magical power, and not enough wisdom to restrain it. They were not the first, of course. Godric's Hollow had a long tradition of producing exceptional wizards. It had been home to Godric Gryffindor and at least one Peverell brother, among others, but that hadn't made life for the new arrivals any easier, especially given Kendra Dumbledore's pride and her daughter Ariana's unfortunate illness.

Albus had known from a very young age that he was not like the other children in his village. He was more interested in sitting quietly with his books and learning about the fabric of the universe than in playing Quidditch or milking cows. And when he started manifesting his prodigious magical powers, it stood to reason that he would have to be sent to Hogwarts, the premiere school of magic in the country. Of course, Kendra Dumbledore had planned for Albus to attend Hogwarts from the very beginning, for she was determined that her firstborn and most promising son should have every opportunity to distinguish himself and uphold the family honour, a fact that only confirmed in the minds of the villagers that the Dumbledores were snobs who put on airs and refused to associate with anyone they considered beneath their station.

How miserable Albus had been as a child in Godric's Hollow. A few of the villagers, being superstitious country folk, had looked on him askance and called him a queer child. Sometimes they would even blame a poor harvest or a bad winter on his newly developing powers. It was well known that his father was in Azkaban, but who knew if that was even his real father? They said the boy's mother was strange, and it was known that there were dark eldritch things in the forest that mated with human women and produced changelings or halflings. Perhaps that was why the boy wasn't like other children his age. Perhaps that was why he had such powerful magic and spent all his time reading books, speaking to animals and running in the forest. Perhaps that was why he spent his nights gazing up at the stars, and knew more words than people thrice his age.

"Look at that Dumbledore boy," they would say, whenever Albus walked by. "He always has his head buried in some book or another. He thinks he's too high and mighty to be playin' with the other children. That's his mother's doin', fillin' his head with notions of how grand his family is. It ain't healthy for a child to be readin' so much. It fills their head with funny ideas, turns them queer. Great big books he reads, too, with odd titles (like _The Alchemical Properties of Dragonnes Bloode; A Guide to Plants and Animals of the English Countryside; British Architecture, Modern and Ancient; Fundamentals of Magickale Philosophie: Theoretical and Experimental; _and _Transactions of the Royal Academy of Magickale Philosophie: Lectures, of the Year Eighteen Hundred and Ninety Two)._You can't tell me it's good for a child, readin' all them big words. It's not natural. It'll send him mad, so it will. His mother says he's a genius, but genius is right next to madness."

In fact, Albus wasn't a changeling, nor was he mentally disturbed. He was just a lonely young lad with a fierce intellect, a wonderful imagination, a sensitive personality and a talent for magic. Perhaps if he'd grown up in a more nurturing environment, perhaps if there had been someone to support him and advise him, perhaps if his father had been in his life, things would have turned out differently. As it happened, his only family members were a heartbroken and preoccupied mother, an angry brother and an ill sister. His brilliance only served to isolate him from others. Instead of blossoming into a vibrant, passionate wizard, he became withdrawn and reserved, his intense feelings turning inwards and burying themselves deep within his psyche.

Albus betrayed no hint of the loneliness inside him to anyone else. It would have been selfish of him to trouble his mother with something so silly. She had enough to worry about with Ariana's illness and trying to make ends meet. Albus was the eldest. It was his responsibility to deal with things on his own.

When he finally arrived at Hogwarts, it seemed that his life had taken a turn for the better. His quick wit and pleasant personality made him popular with teachers and students alike, while his natural aptitude for schoolwork gave him a sense of pride and accomplishment that had been lacking in his earlier years. In a short span of time he had won a number of prestigious academic prizes and established himself as the top of the form, and most importantly of all, he had acquired friends and admirers. "Good old Albus," people would say, patting him on the back. "He knows more than half the teachers here!" It seemed to the young Albus that he had finally found a place where he belonged, and it was with a certain amount of regret that he left Hogwarts to return to Godric's Hollow whenever the holidays came around.

Even in Godric's Hollow, things were improving. Albus' newfound confidence and pride in his abilities made him friendlier and more outgoing, which brought out the best in his personality and eventually won over the people of the village.

"Ah, there goes Albus. I hear he won some big prize for spellcastin' this year. Not too bad for a boy from Godric's Hollow. He's the top student at Hogwarts, and not a bit conceited, too. Always has time to stop and chat to me, polite as you like. Mind you, I always knew he'd go far. Even as a wee lad he always had his head buried in some fancy book or the other."

"Say what you like about Kendra Dumbledore, but she can't be as bad as all that, if she managed to bring up a boy like that Albus. My broomstick's been on the blink for years, but he took one look at it and patched up the Brakin' Charm, quick as anythin'. Never asked for any payment, neither. If I'd taken it down to the garage in Diagon Alley, they would have charged me ten Galleons just to look at it, and wouldn't have fixed it, the thievin' buggers."

The happiest moments of young Albus' life were coming home to his mother with the awards he had won in school. She would hold them reverently, examining them from every angle, before putting them up on the mantelpiece, where they would proclaim to the few visitors who came into their lounge room what Kendra Dumbledore had always known: her son Albus was destined for great things. In those moments of pride, Albus' mother looked almost like her old self again. Her dark eyes sparkled with warmth, and as she smiled, the lines of grief and premature age were smoothed from her face, making her seem years younger. It pleased Albus to know that he could bring a little pleasure to his mother's life after everything had been taken from her.

But these happy days were not to last, for Albus was now at the age of puberty, and with it came more than the usual share of turmoil and confusion. Albus was soon to discover that he was different to other boys his age, and this difference would rob him of his newfound confidence and make him more isolated than ever.

For Albus was a homosexual.

The realisation was a slow one, in part because the whole subject of sexuality made Albus deeply uncomfortable. His conservative upbringing in a country village made him even more repressed than the average person of his social class, and as a result he had a strong conviction that sex was something dirty, sordid and shameful.

He still remembered the first time he had learnt about the sex act. Not trusting the outlandish tales of his peers, he had done as he usually did and consulted a book, in this case _The Encyclopaedia of the Human Body. _This dusty volume had sat on a bookshelf in the Hogwarts library, untouched by generations of students who, foolishly judging it by its plain cover, remained unaware of the wicked obscenities it contained. Picking up the book one day out of curiosity, Albus had idly glanced through the table of contents and noted a section entitled _The Reproductive System. _Upon turning to the first page of that chapter, he had been confronted by a two page full colour spread of the male and female reproductive organs, complete with meticulous labels and enchanted moving parts.

Blushing furiously, Albus had slammed the book shut and quickly looked around to make sure that no one had caught him reading this perverted material. Immediately, he returned the book to its place on the shelf and determined not to touch it again. Somehow, however, the images he had seen had impressed themselves quite firmly on his mind, and as the days went by he found himself possessed of a strong desire to read the rest of the chapter. Eventually the urge grew too strong, and he began making furtive trips to the library, in which he would pick up _The Encyclopaedia of the Human Body, _conceal it within a pile of several innocuous books on Potions and Charms, and sneak it into a quiet corner of the library for some private study. In this manner, Albus learnt about the wonders of the human reproductive system for the first time. (He would never dream of actually taking the book out of the library, because he was terrified of the librarian asking him questions, or someone finding the book in his dormitory and exposing him as a nasty, dirty little boy. What if someone told his mother? It didn't bear thinking about.)

The book's author, one Professor Reginald Winthrop, was an enlightened and modern-thinking man who had little time for old-fashioned pruderies surrounding the human body. He seemed to consider the body a fascinating object of study rather than a source of shame and embarrassment, an attitude which Albus found strange, yet remarkably refreshing. Professor Winthrop had compiled and presented a great quantity of information on human reproduction in a factual way, illustrated with diagrams and copious notes, with a view to educating young people about parts of their bodies which would no doubt be of great interest and importance to them for many years to come.

Thus Albus learnt that during puberty, male and female bodies began to change and develop in different ways. In males, the testes descended from the body into the scrotum and began to secrete large quantities of androgens such as testosterone, which caused physical changes known as secondary sexual characteristics, including increased musculature, broader shoulders, a thickened larynx resulting in a deeper voice, growth of facial hair and increased abundance of overall body hair. In females, the ovaries began to secrete hormones such as oestrogen, which triggered the development of breast tissue, broader hips in preparation for childbirth, menstruation, and increased body hair (particularly in the axillary and pubic regions, but overall less than males).

Albus read, too, about the specialised structure and functions of each reproductive organ. He learnt that the testes produced sperm, which travelled through the vas deferens and mingled with other fluids produced by the prostate gland and seminal vesicles to create a liquid known as semen. When the male was sexually aroused, the erectile tissues in the penis became engorged with blood, allowing the semen to flow through the urethra and be ejaculated from the penis at the moment of orgasm.

Although less interested in the female reproductive system, Albus studied it for the sake of completeness. He learnt that each month, the ovaries released an egg, which travelled along a Fallopian tube to implant itself in the lining of the uterus, which had become thickened in anticipation. At this point, the female might engage in sexual intercourse. If semen were introduced to her vagina (generally via a penis), the sperm would travel to the egg and fertilise it, resulting in the conception of a zygote. If the egg remained unfertilised, it would eventually be flushed from the uterus along with its lining, resulting in periodic monthly bleeding.

Despite his initial strong feelings that this was not the sort of material that good boys should be reading, Albus found it deeply interesting to learn of these things. He'd always had a powerful intellectual curiosity, and on this subject his questions had never been answered satisfactorily. Professor Winthrop treated the whole matter of sex as just another area of learning like Herbology or Charms, and for the first time, Albus realised that the mysterious, exotic world of fornication could be reduced to academic terms that he could easily understand and be comfortable with.

There were two things, however, that Professor Winthrop could not help Albus with.

The first was the sex act itself. It didn't take long for Albus to grasp the mechanics of it, but the full implications took him longer to appreciate. To be honest, he couldn't see why any man and woman would want to do that in the first place, because it seemed unhygienic and a serious invasion of personal space, but he supposed that they had to do it if they wanted children. Yet, why did the act of sexual intercourse have to be something so… so… primitive and uncivilised? When the gods were designing the human body, why did they decide that Man, the only creature to be made in the image of Heaven, lofty in intellect, noble and virtuous in character, like the angels in word and deed… that this work of art, this grand species called the human being should, in the act of lovemaking, be reduced to the filthy, brutish lusts of the lower animals, becoming like the yowling tomcat, the bitch in heat, the grunting, lecherous hog? What a disgrace!

And to think… oh, gods! That his own parents must have engaged in this activity! His gentle, kind father and his proper, stern mother must have actually… no. No, he wouldn't think of it, he couldn't. Hold on, there were three children in his family… Albus, Aberforth and Ariana… which meant that his parents must have committed such acts not once, not twice… but _three _times! Gods have mercy!

Albus' memories of his father included a vague impression of twinkling blue eyes, large, rough hands and a deep voice carefully explaining something or the other. Memories of his mother were much clearer and included the smell of soap and perfume, the tinkle of her jewellery, her dark expressive eyes, and her controlled, precise voice as she reminded him to mind his manners. He briefly tried to reconcile the image of his two parents with the garish anatomical illustrations in the book before him, but it just wouldn't fit, and he had to stop before his brain exploded.

Not only his parents, but everyone who had children, or was married… all the adults in his village, his aunts and uncles, even the teachers at Hogwarts, they all knew about this! Beneath their prim and proper exteriors, their polished manners and their innocent ways, they had been hiding this bestial truth from him the whole time. What else was there that he didn't know about?

That was Albus' first problem. The second was that Professor Winthrop made it clear that sex was something that took place between men and women. But Albus didn't like girls, not in that way. He liked boys instead.

As he'd grown up at Hogwarts, many of his friends had begun dating each other. He'd witnessed firsthand the excitement his male friends felt in female company. Yet Albus himself felt no special thrill at the thought of romance with the girls in his school. Several of them had expressed interest in him, but Albus had buried himself in his studies and used them to deflect suspicion from his unusual lack of interest in the opposite sex. "Albus likes books more than girls," was the consensus of his peers. "Albus likes books and boys more than girls," would have been more accurate.

It quickly became clear to Albus that he was not like most other boys, and this difference was something that he would have to keep secret. People like him were spoken of only in whispers, if at all, and nothing good was ever said. Many a time Albus had wished to be normal, to be just like the other boys in his school. How much easier his life could have been, if he had been just like them. He had often wondered why the gods had made him this way, marking him out for a life of pain and loneliness, only to conclude that they held a special grudge against him, perhaps because of something he or one of his ancestors had done.

In order to distract himself from his budding desires, Albus threw himself into his academic endeavours. He would not allow himself to feel anything contrary to what was decent and proper. He would deny himself the pleasures of the flesh and subdue all his feelings of attraction. Each day, when he was tempted to wayward thoughts, he would remind himself that the whole affair of sex was something dirty, unsavoury and unpleasant, and he would lie to himself that he was better off without romance or love at all. It was a credit to the young Albus' willpower that he would take such a decision and go through with it, all of his own accord. Although he kept up a happy demeanour, on the inside Albus was torn, lonely and tormented by his own sadness and frustration. Yet he had resigned himself to being alone.

And then Gellert had come, and everything had changed.

Now Albus was struggling with feelings he thought had been buried years ago. Even admitting to himself that he was attracted to Gellert went against years of self-imposed conditioning. And always Gellert was rushing him, pushing him, trying to make him go further. Couldn't Gellert see that Albus was trying to go as fast and as far as he could?

Perhaps Gellert assumed that because Albus was his equal in magic, therefore Albus must be his equal in other areas as well. Perhaps if Gellert knew that in matters of the heart, Albus had no experience and was practically a child, Gellert would be a little more patient and gentle with him. Or perhaps not, because there didn't seem to be much patience or gentleness in Gellert's nature from what Albus had seen so far.

It was true Albus wanted Gellert, more than anything. There was a deep hunger within him than only Gellert could fill. But another part of Albus was afraid. What exactly he was afraid of, Albus could not say. It was partly that he was frightened of being close to another person, of intimacy, of being vulnerable. He had spent his whole life hiding and lying to himself in order to protect himself from being hurt. Now, Gellert was asking him to put an end to all that. The thought of being naked with Gellert terrified Albus. Albus didn't like being in situations where he had no sense of control. Gellert had all the power, all the experience in their relationship. Albus would have to surrender himself totally, and he wasn't sure he trusted anyone enough to do that. Especially not Gellert.

What was the alternative? A life of bitter regret and loneliness? Perhaps it was better to be wounded in love than to live behind a wall of solitude. Perhaps, perhaps… Albus didn't know. But it was time he made up his fucking mind, as Gellert said.

Albus would do it. He would do it slowly, and in his own time, but he wouldn't run away from Gellert again. He wanted to know what love was, and he wanted Gellert to be the one to show him. He would tell Gellert the next time he saw him.

He slowed his pace and quieted his footsteps as he drew close to the deer spotting grounds, not wanting to startle them. As he stood in the shadow of the trees, he heard someone walking some distance behind him.

He turned and waited for Gellert to appear.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Happy New Year!

Sorry for the late update and the short chapter with no action. I've been very busy lately, with hardly any time to write. Also writer's block.

Next update: I almost don't want to give a date, because I hate to disappoint, but I'll say Wed 11 Jan. Caveat: it may be a few days late.

ThisLittlePiggyStayedHome: If I met Gellert in real life, I would punch him too. But then he would kill me slowly and painfully. Thanks for commenting.

KnightKat: Aww, thanks. I try to update as frequently as possible, but life keeps getting in the way of writing. I think Albus is cute too, but repressed. Which is bad news for smut-loving readers like you.

Mystic Eye Girl: Thank you for the compliment. I'm sure there must be some good fics out there, but I haven't actually read any other Gel/Alb fics, partly because I wanted to write my own idea without being influenced by others.

Em: Thank you for caring! I think my family problems are settling down a bit. You're most welcome, I'm just glad you're enjoying the story so much. And I was very happy to know that you weren't bored for one moment while reading it.

MikkaAmaya: I appreciate the kind comments. I'll say a couple of things in reply to the concrit you gave.

Regarding Gellert, I may have overpowered him a bit for his age, but I do think it's mostly justified. Harry was only 17 when he fought Death Eaters and killed Voldemort, while Griselda Marchbanks said that Albus "_Did things with a wand I'd never seen before,_" in his NEWT exams, when he was 17. I think that proves that wizards who are prodigies are capable of great feats of magic at young ages. I agree with you that Grindelwald was less powerful than Albus, but I believe he was in the same exceptional league. He was described as the Dark wizard second only to Voldemort, and it's hinted that he took over much of Europe and might have succeeded in his plans if Albus hadn't personally defeated him.

Regarding Albus' character, I will watch him, but this isn't one of my strong points. I tend to put a lot of AU, and sometimes OOC in my stories, but in this particular fic I've stuck pretty close to canon. Personally I don't think that canon gives us a strong sense of what Albus was like at 17. We mostly know him as wise old Dumbledore, when he's had a hundred years of growth and experience to mould him. When I think of how much I've changed in the last five or ten years, I think young Albus could have been very different, so I'm treating him as a bit of a blank canvas, but I'll try not to go overboard.

Thanks again, and I hope you keep reading.


	16. The Task at Hand

**Warning:** Graphic description of sexual assault near the end of this chapter.

* * *

><p>Gellert lay on his back, watching the branches sway and leaves rustle in the sunlit canopy high above him. The forest was quiet apart from the gently sighing wind and the distant calls of birds. The wine he'd drunk, the soft forest floor beneath him and the warm sunlight all combined to make him feel relaxed and tranquil.<p>

With his right hand, he gently stroked his cock, keeping it hard. Albus had been gone for five minutes now, and Gellert was in danger of going limp if he didn't keep his hand busy. Gods, Albus was such a cock-tease, but he didn't mean to be, so Gellert wouldn't hold it against him. Albus didn't know shit when it came to sex. Hah, there had been such a confused, hurt look in Albus' eyes just before he'd scurried away, looking like a little puppy that had been kicked by a trusted master. There had been fear in his wide eyes, too, and Gellert felt his cock pulsing, growing harder at the memory.

With Albus gone, Gellert would have to pleasure himself. He closed his eyes and mentally sorted through the catalogue of girls he kept stored in his head, casting around for a suitable focus. Elke? No, he couldn't be aroused by a girl after just recently fucking her. It was boring. Especially with Elke, whom he'd already fucked plenty of times back in Durmstrang.

The baker's wife? Hell no, not that saggy old bitch! He'd only done her because he'd been feeling really horny (he hadn't gotten any action for a long period before that), and every once in a while he liked to fuck a girl who was old or ugly or deformed or whatever, just for that little extra something to make the sex exciting and dirty. But afterwards, they just made him feel sick.

What about that girl from the post office? Yes, she'd been good, and he'd only done her once. What was her name? Charlene? Or maybe Shannon? Sharon? Yes, that was it, Sharon. Not that it mattered. Some typical stupid English name for a stupid, slutty English girl. She'd been a virgin, too, and she'd cried when he'd fucked her (his favourite kind of sex).

From his memory, he recreated the sight of Sharon's naked body. He remembered how she'd shivered and wrapped her arms around herself as he'd stripped her, exposing her pale skin dotted with goose bumps, her small breasts with pert nipples, her pink virgin cunt half-hidden by her wispy brown pubes. He loved a girl who was a virgin, all tight and innocent and undespoiled, like a new gift-wrapped present just waiting for him to get in there and tear it open, a newly-opened flower unplucked by anyone. As a bonus, sex was usually painful for girls the first time, and it made Gellert excited to know he was inflicting pain.

He'd pushed Sharon onto the bed and run his hands and his tongue over her entire body, starting with her face and eventually finishing with the pink folds of her pussy. He'd stuck his fingers up her cunt, feeling her from the inside, before lowering his head to eat her, tasting the sweet juices that flowed inside her…

Frustrated, Gellert opened his eyes and frowned. As he replayed the memories of Sharon in his mind, he slid his hand up and down his cock in vigorous, rhythmic strokes, but it wasn't enough to keep him aroused. He just couldn't wank out here in the middle of nowhere, with no pictures, no toys, no fucking _people_, nothing to keep him interested. All he had were some memories. He wanted a real, flesh-and-blood girl. Hell, he wasn't too fussy, he just wanted something warm, human and preferably alive to stick his cock into for a few minutes.

Briefly he considered going after Albus and forcing him into sex, but almost instantly he dismissed the idea. He couldn't risk upsetting Albus, not now, not after all the effort he'd invested in befriending him.

He could conjure some pornographic pictures from his room, but somehow he didn't feel like it. He could try one of the girls in the village, but that would mean getting up and Apparating from this spot, and he couldn't be bothered. It was so nice and warm here. He felt relaxed and drowsy. How much wine had he drunk, exactly? Not enough. The bottle had still had some wine left in it.

It looked like it was just going to be him and his old friend, his hand. Good old hand. It had gotten him through some hard times, with the emphasis on the word _hard._

"Dear old hand," Gellert said. "I never told you how much I appreciate you." In many ways, his hand was better than a woman. He didn't have to buy his hand flowers and tell it that he loved it. He didn't have to listen to his hand talk about its feelings, or tell it how beautiful it looked in a new pair of gloves. When he wanted sex, his hand would never complain that it had a headache. His hand wouldn't be cross with him if he forgot their anniversary. His hand didn't mind him fooling around with his other hand. It never nagged him, or whined that he wasn't paying attention to it or spending enough time with it.

But it wasn't enough to get him off. Not this time.

"I'm sorry," Gellert said to his hand. "It's not you, it's me. I have changed. Don't look at me like that. We can still be friends. I still need you to open doors for me and hold my wand and so on."

Gellert snickered. If anyone was watching him, they would think he was mad. Sometimes he did worry about himself, but never for very long. It didn't matter what other people might think. The important thing was that he was having fun and enjoying life. Besides, madness was right next to genius. Little people, with limited minds incapable of understanding power, would accuse anyone who was different of being mad, evil or dangerous.

"They called Merlin mad, you know," he said. "But he was one of the world's greatest magicians. Until he was destroyed by a woman, of course. That is what happens to those who fall in love. They act stupidly, become weak." That would never happen to Gellert.

_Damn hand!_ he thought in frustration, wanking furiously. It was no good. No matter how fast he went, it just wasn't doing anything for him. Glaring at his hand in anger, he was possessed by an absurd desire to cut it off, but despite being tipsy he still had enough sense to recognise the foolishness of that idea.

He sighed. It was taking more and more to get himself off these days. Sex had become so predictable and boring.

It had been much easier when he was younger and he'd first become interested in girls. All he'd needed then were some of the prized naughty pictures he'd gotten from the older boys in Durmstrang. The women in the pictures were strange, beautiful creatures, nothing like his mother or sister or any of the girls in his school. They were an exotic new species of human Gellert had never seen before, dressed in silks and feathers and high heels, painted with eye shadow and mascara.

Unlike the real girls Gellert knew, who were prim and proper, plain and boring, virtuous and modest, the girls in the photos were bad girls, naughty sluts, shameless whores. They were sexual and they knew it. Their bodies were weapons, poised to stab at men's self-control and society's values, beautiful but deadly, in the same way that an ornamented knife or a curving sword's blade had a mortal attraction. Their bodies were perfect as angels, but their souls were all tainted with corruption, their eyes full of hellfire.

These being magical photos, the girls moved. They blew kisses, gazed out at Gellert with their eyes full of teasing promises and false coyness, gently slipped off their clothes. Piece by piece they stripped, slowly revealing their round breasts, their smooth skin, their narrow waists, long legs, arching backs and the delicate flowers of their cunts. Gellert was hypnotised. The number of sweaty, bliss-filled hours he spent interfering with himself over the picture of a pouting girl stretched on her back, her raven hair spreading like a pool of night, licking her wet lips with her pink tongue, her body writhing, her breasts heaving, until at last Gellert couldn't take it any more and he came in a sticky moment of rapture and hot, gasping breaths.

But afterwards he felt empty, and the girls only made him angry. He felt that they were laughing at him with their knowing eyes. _Silly little boy, _they seemed to be saying, _you can't resist us. How weak you men are. You think you're in charge, but we can make you do anything we want. _He hated the way the women in the photos manipulated him. Filthy dirty sluts! They knew exactly what they were doing, they knew they were driving him crazy, and they loved it. They wanted him to make a fool of himself. Once he got so angry at one of the girls that he ripped her photograph in two, but he felt sorry afterwards because she was the only redhead in his collection and she had a beautiful body. He tried to repair the photo but the spell was damaged, and she refused to return to the picture anyway. He masturbated bitterly over the torn pieces before setting fire to them and almost burning down his dormitory.

Soon the pictures weren't enough. He wanted a real girl. The girls in the photos were gorgeous, but they were too perfect to be real. He wanted, needed to feel a warm wet cunt sliding around his cock as he pounded it. He was lucky enough to be handsome and likeable, and there were many girls in Durmstrang who would have happily agreed to be his girlfriend, but he wasn't ready for such a commitment. From what he'd seen so far, having a girlfriend would mean a lot of work on his part, and no guarantee of sex. He decided that he would begin by observing.

Hiding himself with a Disillusionment Charm, he began to sneak into the girls' dormitories, baths or changing rooms whenever he had the opportunity, taking care not to make any noise or draw any attention to himself. He would feast his eyes on the smorgasbord set before him: girls in their natural habitat, unaware that they were being watched, happily chatting as they undressed for bed or the baths, innocently doing the little feminine things that they hid from the rest of the world, like applying make-up or doing each other's hair. To see the girls whom he saw every day in class like this, exposed and tender and vulnerable, made him very excited. Even more so when they went into the baths, and the steaming hot water cascaded down their bodies in heavenly waves, and they touched themselves all over, rubbing themselves with soap. Then Gellert would get so excited that he had to wank right then and there, and it was a struggle for him not to make any noise.

Merely watching didn't satisfy Gellert for long. Soon enough he had chosen a target and started to work on her, sending her silly little cards and poems and other things that girls liked, asking her to a dance, and taking her for long rowing trips on the lake. Not long afterwards Gellert had his first sexual encounter, a little awkward and clumsy, but more than satisfying. After having her a few more times, he grew bored and moved onto others…

Soon even sex wasn't enough to content him. He needed more. He started his enacting violent fantasies, treating his girlfriends roughly, slapping them, biting them, choking them, forcing them to do things. He discovered that he liked seeing the pain and fear in their eyes. It made things more intense, more exciting, and with his low boredom threshold he needed some novelty to keep things interesting. As he grew older he became more adventurous, his restlessness driving him to seek out more and more new experiences. He experimented with various drugs and magical spells, which gave him brief thrills but never lasted for long. He even had a couple of sexual encounters with other boys.

It had started one night when he was lying in the same bed as Klaus, one of the many classmates who admired him and practically worshipped him. On this particular night, Gellert noticed to his horror that the touch of Klaus' warm body against his was making him hard. Once he realised what was happening, he was so disturbed that he immediately leapt out of bed and resolved to stay far away from Klaus.

What did this mean? Was Gellert a queer? The thought sickened him. He hated those queer boys who degraded themselves by acting like females. He didn't know why anyone who was fortunate enough to be born a male would want to lower themselves by imitating the weaker sex. It was a disgusting, unnatural thing and Gellert wanted nothing to do with it.

After thinking about it for several days, he realised that he had quite overreacted. It hadn't meant anything; it was just a physical reaction. After all, he knew he wasn't a queer. He wasn't attracted to cocks at all – except perhaps his own. It was just that his cock had a mind of its own, and it wasn't very discriminating. The touch of anyone's warm skin was enough to set it off, regardless of whether the person in question were female, male, young, old, ugly, beautiful, or even human. Thus satisfied and once again secure in his sexuality, Gellert returned to his old self again.

But a few weeks later, when he and Klaus happened to be alone in the dormitory once again, and Gellert had had quite a lot to drink, a powerful curiosity took hold of him. He began to wonder what it would feel like to have sex with another boy. Not on the receiving end, of course, for that would be disgusting. He would rather die than have someone else's cock inside him. But to be the one doing the fucking… what would that be like? He couldn't help but wonder. After all, he had tried everything else, and nothing had ever held his attention for very long. And Klaus was quite a young and girly-looking boy… he almost could be a girl. And as far as Gellert's cock was concerned, the only difference between Klaus and a girl was that Klaus had one less hole…

And that was how it began. When Klaus realised what was happening, his eyes went wide with horror and his whole body stiffened. Gellert, seeing the fear in the younger boy's eyes, knew that he had made the right decision. This was exciting! Klaus was stronger than a girl, yet his struggles were somehow more pathetic and desperate, because he was a boy about to suffer the ultimate humiliation of being turned into a bitch. It was violent, intense and brutal. Klaus begged, pleaded, sobbed and whimpered, which only drove Gellert into a greater frenzy, and by the time it was all over Klaus was lying completely still, all the resistance gone out of his body, his eyes glazed and empty as though his soul had flown away to a faraway place to escape the indignities being suffered by his body. Gellert's white, sticky seed smeared Klaus' face and mixed with the salt tears trailing down his cheeks. By then Gellert was on his side, dozing, uncaring of the blood staining the sheets…

Slowly, Gellert returned to the present. Yes, he had had a lot of sex in his time, and it was no wonder that his hand just wasn't doing it for him any more. It was all the fault of that damn fool Albus! Trust a little cock-tease faggot like him to lead Gellert along and then abandon him, leaving him high and dry, with no way to get his satisfaction!

Pushing all those thoughts aside, Gellert determined to complete the business at hand as soon as possible so he could return to Albus. He began to wank with renewed vigour and purpose, as fast as he could, without rest. He was determined to come as quickly as he could. He took no real pleasure in what he was doing. It was just something he had to do, like scratching an itch or coughing when something was caught in his chest. When he finally did reach the moment of climax after several minutes hard and unceasing effort, he observed the effects distantly and with no particular joy. He lay on his back, spent, and allowed himself to rest for a few moments and catch his breath.

Drawing his wand, he said, "_Tergeo,_" and siphoned off the semen where it had spilt on his clothes and body.

Then he went off in search of Albus.


	17. The Mountain

_The voice of my beloved! Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains, skipping upon the hills. _

_My beloved is like a roe or a young hart…_

_My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away._

**- Song of Songs 2:8-10**

Albus' heart jumped as Gellert emerged from the trees, his hands thrust into the pockets of his sky-blue robe. His hair was a little unkempt, but apart from that he looked as though nothing untoward had happened. There was a calm expression on his face, and when he saw Albus he gave a beatific smile.

"So this is the deer place," he said quietly.

Albus nodded, watching Gellert warily. Were they just going to pretend that nothing had happened, that Gellert hadn't lost his temper and threatened Albus with violence?

"And where are the deer?" Gellert asked, looking from side to side.

"I'll show you. In a minute." Albus swallowed. "There's something I… we… ought to talk about."

"Yes, Albus." Gellert drew close to Albus and took his hands. "I must apologise once again for my behaviour. I have not been myself recently. I promise I will not let it happen again."

"Oh, uh, well," Albus stammered, caught off guard. He had been steeling himself for a difficult talk with Gellert, but this pre-emptive apology had stolen his thunder. What was up with Gellert? He looked so peaceful and happy, so different from how he'd been just a quarter of an hour ago. He looked as charming and perfect as he'd been on the first night Albus had met him. All the hardness and anger had fallen from his face like a mask, leaving his expression sweet and vulnerable, like a little boy's. Albus couldn't remain upset with Gellert now.

Hand in hand, they walked along the edge of the forest, the grass whispering against the hems of their robes.

"Try not to make too much noise," Albus said. "They're flighty. They run at the first sign of danger."

"Like someone I know," Gellert said quietly.

Albus' ears burned a little at that. "They live deep in the woods and usually only move about at sunrise and sunset. Most people don't get a chance to see them. But I happen to know that they like the grass here."

After a few minutes, they spotted red-brown shapes moving on the outskirts of the clearing. Holding a finger to his lips, Albus led Gellert by the hand, closer to the animals.

"Roe deer," Albus whispered. "They're reddish now, but they become darker in winter. The ones with antlers are males."

"Do they eat grass?"

"They eat all kinds of things: grass, leaves, berries. They like the soft plants and the flowers here."

On either side of the river, the mountain was clothed with emerald blades of grass and wildflowers rippling in the wind. The deer moved among the plants like careful gardeners, pausing to lower their heads and pluck a yellow blossom here, a young shoot there. Every few seconds they would raise their heads and look all around with their big eyes, their ears twisting from side to side. The clearing was still and quiet, apart from birdcalls in the distance.

"This is nice," Gellert said.

"Yes," said Albus.

"I can see why you like to come here. But do you spend so much time on your own? Do you not have friends in this Godric's Hollow? I thought that you had many friends in Hogwarts."

"Well, my mother died recently. I don't much feel like company."

"I am sorry. Of course, you need space for your grief."

"It's not just that. I've always liked being by myself. Even before."

"I know what you mean. Before I met you, no one really kept my interest for very long. But now, I feel that you and I are kindred spirits."

"I don't think so, Gellert. You and I are different…"

"Not so much as you think. Trust me. I know yourself better than you do."

Albus was quiet. For a minute or two he was lost in watching the movements of the deer, almost forgetting that Gellert was there.

"I still think you and I are opposites," he said eventually.

"How so?"

"Well, you are… loud. And..." How could Albus say this tactfully? "Confident. Very driven. Assertive. You know what you want and you take it."

"So, you are saying politely that I am rude and ruthless, with no consideration for the other fellow."

"No, I didn't say that! Don't put words in my mouth."

Gellert chuckled. "You wish I should put something else in your mouth?"

It took Albus a few moments to work out what Gellert had said. He knew it was something saucy because of Gellert's expression, a wickedly suggestive look that made one feel he had committed sexual assault with just a glance, and left one with a rather dirty, indecent feeling. Albus' cheeks went hot. "Do you think about… lust all the time?"

"Not _all _the time. Quite a lot of times, perhaps. I am a normal male."

"Not all men think about… indecency all the time."

"No. I suppose some of them are sissies like you."

Stung, Albus slipped his hand out of Gellert's and walked on. He didn't want Gellert to see how much that remark had hurt him. Why was Albus so sensitive? Why were his feelings so easily hurt by the littlest things? Why couldn't he just shrug and laugh things off like everyone else? He couldn't help it. He just took things to heart.

He was starting to wish he hadn't brought Gellert here. This was a special place, almost sacred to Albus. He had often come here when he was feeling alone, miserable and tired of human affairs. There was no room for confusion or sorrow up here on the hills, only the deep stillness and rugged beauty of the wilderness. Up here, where the vast blue bowl of the sky descended to touch the upthrust bones of the earth, where the heavens met the mountains, there were no petty human concerns. The cold wind blew sharp as a knife, scouring away all Albus' fears, stripping him to the bone. The steams and rivers flowed relentlessly, washing away all his worries and tears, leaving him cleansed. The sad, lonely part of him died and his soul was reborn as something beautiful and free.

The mountains were full of life's treasures. Down in the valley, humans had invaded and polluted and despoiled, tearing down the trees, dumping their rubbish in the rivers, hunting animals, filling the air with their incessant noise, driving all the quiet, old things out of their hiding places; but up on the hills, Nature reigned in all her glory. Unafraid, she spread her flowery cloak over the hillsides, let down her hair in cascading waterfalls, stuck her jagged rocky fingers from the soil, spoke in whispering winds and birdsong.

How could Albus remain sad, when all around him there was life, uncomplicated and unapologetic? The deer, sparrows, trout and badgers never doubted themselves or lost faith. Whatever hardships they suffered, they soldiered on. Pangs of hunger, predators, disease and death had no terror for them. They had no money, no education, no fine clothes, no reputation, and yet they were more content than any human being. They were fuelled by the primal instinct of nature, the insatiable desire of life to go on living in the most hostile conditions. How Albus envied them! It was a uniquely human failing to be cut off from life and to feel despair…

Perhaps Albus should not have been born a human. He would have been happier as something else, perhaps. When he was younger, he would climb into the rocky heart of the mountains and pray, for this _was_ a holy place, holier than any temple made by humans, for it was made by Nature herself, and the spirit of life was in the very fabric of it. He would pray to the old, silent, nameless gods that lived deep in the tranquillity of the Earth, the gods who had been here even before Freya, Woden and Thor, before humans, the gods who were so old that none could remember their names, if they even had any.

His prayer was not of the kind that most religious people would recognise, for it was real prayer. It was not a list of demands, requests or enquiries such as a child would make of a parent: _would you please heal my mother, have I been good, I beg you to make me happy, if you exist please reveal yourself to me_. Rather it was true prayer, without words, the oldest prayer, older than language, older than humanity, a prayer old as life itself, in which Albus' soul moved in silent communion with and wordless awe of the presence of something greater than itself, something that shook his spirit and made him weep tears of emotion.

And after he prayed, he wondered if someone had made a mistake in making him a human, for he wasn't happy in this life. Perhaps if he stood on the mountainside long enough, his feet would take root, his arms would sprout leaves and he would become a tree in the forest. He wouldn't mind that, being surrounded by his own kind. Deer would come and rest in the shade of his branches, birds would build nests on his arms and he would hold their eggs tenderly and safely. Or perhaps he would become a fox running the hills by night, hunting with his mate, returning to feed his cubs in their den. Or perhaps he would grow wings and become a skylark, wild and free, darting through the open sky, filling the air with his song. Or else he would turn to stone and become quartz, jasper, an amethyst sleeping in the warm dark womb under the earth. Or else… anything, anything, let him be anything but this wretched Albus Dumbledore. To be an animal or plant or stone… anything would be better than being human, being cut off from Nature, being conscious and aware, and feeling this pain that no other living thing felt.

From the mountainside, if one knew where to look, one could see the skeletons of past civilisations. Albus had found several old Roman roads, a Roman coin, a flint arrowhead, a chalkpit, a couple of long barrows in which Anglo-Saxon chieftains were buried, shards of pottery and a rusted iron blade. All were remnants of peoples who had sought to conquer these islands. Picts, Celts, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Romans, French, Normans, and a hundred others had come seeking to claim this land, but in the end the land had claimed them. Their bones lay entombed in the mountain now, surrounded by the gold and weapons they had thought would save them from their enemies. The mountain was ancient and cunning, and it had waited patiently, knowing that the one enemy humans could not escape was time. And the handmaiden of time was death, which all men feared, even men like Gellert who thought they were courageous.

Albus himself had no fear of death. He knew that however beautiful this season's flowers were, they had to fade and wither away eventually. It was sad, but it was part of the cycle, and next year there would be new flowers. Albus, too, would have his time in the sun, but then he would have to return to the soil and make room for someone else, whoever he would be.

How deluded humans were to think they could own the land. In the end, the land would own them all. No matter who they were, beggars or kings, magicians or Muggles, one day their bones would all lie beneath the earth. Before humans had come to these islands, there had only been deer, birds and wolves. Before that, the land had been covered with ice and stalked by great hairy mammals. And even before that, the land had been filled with gigantic reptiles. Mountains had risen and fallen, oceans had expanded and retreated, a million creatures had come and gone, but always the land remained. It would still be there, eternal and unchanging, long after humans had disappeared from the surface of the Earth. In the face of that silent majesty, surrounded by the graves of past conquerors, in the stony heart of the mountain, it was impossible to be upset over things like the death of his father, his loneliness, his isolation. Things which seemed so big and important down in the human world shrank into insignificance here. Beside the mountain, Albus and all his problems were just a speck of dust…

He would enter a dreamlike state, halfway between sleeping and waking, in which he almost became one with the mountain. He felt the stillness and silence of stone enter his troubled heart and fill him with a deep peace he could never find on his own. It was such a sweet relief to be spared from his troubled thoughts, to just _exist_ without being self-conscious, being aware, doubting and hating himself. He wondered if he could do as Merlin had done, and slip beneath the rock and become part of the stone forever. If he could turn into stone himself, and sleep, unburdened by these chaotic thoughts, his life would be so much easier. He touched the mountainside, feeling the warm living rock beneath his fingers. _Let me in, _he prayed, _let me descend into the darkness of the Earth and sleep again in her womb. Life out here in the world is too bright, too harsh, too painful. Let me have the peace of stone. _He could almost hear the mountain's reply: _Not yet. The time will come when you return to me, when your bones sleep inside the earth, besides the bones of all the others. But not yet. _Albus wondered, _But why? Why am I out here? What is the purpose of it all? _The mountain rumbled, and he thought it was laughing at him. _Know you not? Ask the flower why it blooms, ask the deer why it runs, ask the skylark why it sings. _And Albus asked, but there was never any answer, or if there was, he couldn't understand it.

And into this sacred, timeless place he had brought Gellert. Gellert, with his rough ways and his sneering mouth and his lack of respect for anyone else. Gellert, who thought that life was one big joke played on everyone for his own amusement. Gellert, who had no sense of the sacred, no quietness in his soul. Gellert, whose idea of enjoying nature was to kill animals for fun! Albus had thought it would be nice to share this place with someone else, but Gellert was incapable of appreciating it, and he was only going to spoil everything.

"Albus?" Gellert caught up with him. "Why do you look so down? What are you thinking of?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about what you said, that we're kindred spirits. You're wrong. Very wrong."

"No, I am not. You can be different from someone and still be the same as them. Look." Gellert took hold of Albus' arm and pointed high into the sky. "Tell me what you see."

"The sky?"

"And in it, giving light and life for everything?"

"The Sun."

"Yes, yes, Lady Sunna. And her brother - "

"Mon -"

"_Lord _Mon, as you say. He and his sister are kindred spirits, are they not? They are both holy, both made of light. But they are also different, for She rules over the day, and He rules over night."

"I don't see what this has to do with you and me…"

"Do you know why they parted ways? Because Sunna and her brother were different. She was golden and fiery and strong, while he was silver and cool and gentle. And Sunna loved people, so she lived in the morning sky to share her beauty with the whole world, and all admired her radiance. Lord Mon was shy, so he ran and hid in the darkest night, and only the owls, foxes and night travellers saw his beautiful silver light. But the two of them are made of the same substance, and they still loved each other. And they say that on some days, at dawn or twilight, when the night and day meet, you can see Lady Sunna in her chariot of gold and her brother Mon in his chariot of silver, racing across the sky armed with bows of sunlight and moonbeam, hunting the storms of the heavens."

After a short silence, Albus said, "I understand what you mean. But are you comparing us to gods?"

"Why not? We are gods, with our powers. Compared to other wizards."

"As I said earlier, you have a rather healthy ego."

"Where is the harm? If one is talented and powerful, why shouldn't one be proud?"

"Just be careful. Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall."

"Stop your Christian babble. There is no one alive who can destroy me, or cause me to fall. If they dare, let them try. I am the Master of Death, the right hand of destruction. I take life away and give it back again. I walk without fear in the terror of night. My wand is the power and the fury, the sword of Tyw. My breath is the strength of Woten, my fist is the hammer of Thor. And when I have the Hallows, I will be invincible."

"The Hallows? You don't mean the Deathly Hallows?"

"The very same."

Albus frowned. "I didn't think you would be the sort to believe in fairy tales."

"Fairy tales, no. Ancient history, yes."

"So you believe the Hallows are real artefacts? With real magical powers?"

"I do. And you will help me to find them."

"I see. And do I have a choice in the matter?"

"Yes. Will you choose the sad, closed life of not knowing your full power? Or will you come with me and do things you never dreamed possible?"

Albus paused and shivered slightly. "I've dreamed many things, Gellert. More than you can suppose. But I know the difference between dreams and reality."

"Your problem, Albus, is that you think too much. Sometimes you must simply do things. You weren't put in this life to be quiet and think, but to live. You must go out and experience things. Do crazy things. Let yourself go."

"How, exactly?"

"Like this. Come."

Gellert broke into a run, pulling Albus along by the hand.

* * *

><p><strong>UPDATE:<strong>

Hi everyone. The good news is that I have slowly started writing again. I tentatively plan the next update for **Sunday March 4.**

Thanks for your patience and understanding.

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><p><strong>Update 2:<strong>

****I need more time. I have written 1 464 words of the next chapter. This week will be busy for me as I'm starting my new semester. I'll aim for Sunday 11 March. Deadlines give me something to aim for, but remember that I don't usually keep them!


	18. A Spill and a Catch

Together they raced down the grassy slope of the mountain, their boots throwing up flecks of green. The deer, startled by their sudden charge, fled into the forest in an elegantly choreographed series of leaps and bounds.

"Where are we going?" Albus spluttered, struggling to keep up with Gellert, who had longer legs and was in much better shape.

"You will see!"

On they ran, until Albus' heart pounded fit to burst in his chest and his breath was ragged. The mountain rolled past his eyes in flashes of green, punctuated by bursts of floral colour. He was lost, adrift in a sea of rushing images, the warmth of Gellert's hand the only thing keeping him anchored. As the ground angled steeply downward beneath his feet, he realised where they were heading.

"Gellert," he panted, "you're going… wrong way. Fall…"

"This is the right way!"

"Are you mad?"

"A little bit!"

"No!" shouted Albus. "This is crazy!" Yet he kept running, his body and Gellert's joined by their clasped hands as they headed towards the sheer drop. Ahead of them, the mountain opened into a chasm of harsh, breathtaking beauty. The stream flowed down the chiselled mountainside, the rock face riven with clefts and stony outcroppings, cascading water smashing against the rough boulders and shattering into a million rainbow-hued droplets made of cloudy mist.

"We won't survive that!" Albus screamed.

"Trust me!"

They reached the brink. Albus squeezed his eyes shut, as though he could blot out the reality by refusing to see it. He felt Gellert's arms closing around his body from behind. Together the two of them half leaped, half fell, and suddenly there was nothing beneath Albus' feet. The world lurched, and in an instant he was falling at tremendous speed with wind whipping through his hair.

"AAAAAAAAAAHH!" Albus yelled, but the wind snatched his voice out of his mouth as he fell, so he could barely hear his own scream of pure terror and adrenaline. Dimly he was aware of Gellert laughing like a maniac right beside him.

_He's insane, _Albus thought distantly. _I've fallen in love with a madman. And now I'm going to die in his arms. _Come to think of it, it wasn't such a bad way to die.

"Open your eyes, Albus!" Gellert shouted in his ear, just audible over the roaring of wind and falling water. "You are missing the good view!"

Afraid of what he would see, Albus opened his eyes, and just managed to keep himself from shouting again. It was like a scene from another world. They were falling alongside the mountain, upside-down so that their perspective was skewed. It felt like they were flying, but it was so free and light without the constraint of broomsticks, like they were birds or spirits of the air. What seemed like half the river fell with them, water churned to white foam by scraping along the jagged rocks. Sunlight blazed around them, turning each droplet of water into a sparkling diamond. Despite the beauty surrounding him, Albus' eyes were drawn irresistibly to the ground, which was nothing but a distant green and brown blur at the moment, but approaching at a _very _rapid rate.

"Gellert!" Albus' voice was hoarse as he struggled to make himself heard.

"Ja?"

"The ground!"

"It is far away!"

"Not for long!"

"Do not be worried!"

The ground had already expanded to almost fill Albus' entire field of vision. It wouldn't be long now before impact. Albus hoped Gellert had a plan.

"If you're doing something, do it now!"

"Not yet!"

_Ten seconds, _Albus estimated. _Nine. Eight. Seven. Six._

"Gellert!"

"Hahahaha!"

Albus closed his eyes.

_Three. Two. One._

Albus winced and braced for the impact, but it never came. He was still moving at a rapid pace, the wind rushing through his hair, but he was no longer falling. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes.

He was skimming over the roaring, leaping surface of the river, seated on a broomstick. The thundering crescendo of the waterfalls was receding into the distance.

"Welcome back," Gellert said. "I was wondering if you will have your eyes closed all the way home."

Albus realised that he was sitting in Gellert's lap, with Gellert's arms around him. Embarrassed, he tried to squirm away, but the broomstick rocked unsteadily, forcing him to stay where he was.

"Be still now," said Gellert. "Else we will fall into the river. This broomstick is built for one."

"A Summoning Charm," Albus said, his brain working properly now that the panic was beginning to fade. "I thought you'd Disapparate us."

"Apparating would take the fun out of it. Flying is more scenic. And a broomstick ride over the river is the perfect finish to waterfall diving!"

"But how could you know the broomstick would arrive on time?"

"I didn't. That's why it was more exciting."

"Idiot!" Albus shouted, and punched Gellert's arm. The broomstick rocked again, but Albus didn't care. "That was so stupid! We could have been killed!"

Gellert looked surprised and a little annoyed that Albus had struck him.

"But we were not killed. So where is the problem?"

"Idiot!" Albus fumed. "You may think it's clever to pull stunts like that, but I don't. If you want to gamble with your own life, fine, but next time don't gamble with mine."

Gellert frowned.

"I did not force you. You came over the edge yourself. You should maybe take responsibility for your own actions."

"You were pressuring me."

"I am sorry. I did not realise you were so weak willed to do whatever others tell you."

Albus shook his head and looked away, glaring at the rippling river as though it had personally offended him. The two of them were silent for several minutes.

"That was quite… fun, though," Albus said after a while, grinning.

There was a pause, then Gellert snickered.

"You should have seen the look on your face," he crowed. "Will we go again?"

"No!"

The broomstick continued to follow the course of the river as it slowed and snaked down the hills. The brisk, choppy surface of the water calmed, becoming flat and still as the surrounding land changed from harsh, rocky formations to green, grass-covered plains, and eventually forested areas.

Albus closed his eyes and leaned back against Gellert's body, his ears filled with the sound of trickling water, his skin relishing the warm kiss of the sunlight. It was sweet and peaceful. Gellert was still and silent as stone apart from the gentle rhythm of his breathing, his fingers gently stroking Albus' hair. Albus wished that Gellert could be like this all the time.

Eventually, they reached the spot where they'd made their picnic. The broomstick came to a rest above one of their blankets, hovering about three feet in the air. Albus climbed down, while Gellert tumbled casually onto a blanket and lay on his back with his eyes half closed, looking sleepily satisfied, like a cat full of cream.

"That was a fun time we had," Gellert said. "Will we eat now?"

"Sounds good to me," said Albus, opening one of the picnic hampers. "Would you like to help me unpack the food?"

''No. That is a job for house-elfs and girls."

"Well, there are no house-elves or girls with us at the moment," said Albus crossly, "so unless the picnic springs to life and unpacks itself, it looks like we'll have to do it. I'll take care of it myself, shall I? You can just sit there, Your Majesty, I wouldn't want you to lower yourself with servants' work."

"I was joking," Gellert said, rising to his feet. "I will help you. Why must you take things very seriously all the time?"

"How am I supposed to know whether you're joking or merely being obnoxious?"

"You are supposed to be intelligent. You should be able to surmise it."

"I understand most people. I don't think the problem lies with me."

Between the two of them, they soon had the hampers empty of their contents. On the red tartan blanket closest to the river Albus set two china plates, silver cutlery with grapevine-engraved handles, soft napkins and a couple of glasses patterned with green-stemmed purple lilies. Gellert handled the drinks, examining bottles of beer and wine and nodding approvingly at each before setting them down.

"Ginger beer?" he said incredulously, holding a bottle of bubbly golden-brown liquid aloft and squinting at it with an expression of distaste.

"Yes," Albus said. "Why, don't you like it? Never mind, then. More for me."

"How old are you?" Gellert muttered, shaking his head and dropping the ginger beer as though it were poisoned. He reached into the hamper and withdrew another bottle. "_Lemonade?_"

"If you have a problem with it, don't drink it," Albus said.

He laid out the watercress, tomato and chicken sandwiches, cakes, both chocolate and plain, frosted with icing, wobbling jellies in bright translucent greens, yellows and reds, biscuits with cream centres, sticky buns and jam tarts, mince pies with steaming fillings and flaky golden crusts, and silver flasks of hot soup.

"This is looking delicious," Gellert said. "It seems that dirty house-elf is good for something after all."

"Dirty house-elf? Did Birdy do something to offend you? I was under the impression she was a good and faithful servant to your great-aunt."

"Of course she is faithful. Their race is bred to be obedient. They are destined for slavery, it is in their nature. But it doesn't change the fact that she is a dirty house-elf."

Albus tried, with difficulty, to keep the anger from his face.

"Don't speak that way, Gellert. Not in front of me. Please. If you do, I shall have no choice but to leave right now and never see you again."

Gellert raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely surprised.

"You would give up our relationship over a mere house-elf?"

Albus looked away.

"It's not just about Birdy." He said the name deliberately, forcefully. He didn't like the way that Gellert wouldn't say her name. "My principles are at stake."

"Oh. I see."

There was a strange note in Gellert's voice. Albus glanced at him and saw a hard look in his eyes.

"Perhaps… ," Gellert said softly. "Perhaps we will see how firm your principles are."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," said Gellert, smiling oddly. "Let us eat. I am hungry."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

This is a fragment of the next chapter so it's quite brief. I have less time to write now so I'll probably update in bits and pieces. The story won't flow as well as I'd like it to, so apologies for that.

I'll try to have the next update ready for Wednesday 14 March, with the usual caveat that I can't make promises.

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><p>Em: Hey Em, that was a nice video. I first got excited because the song you used is a cover of Sally's Song from The Nightmare Before Christmas, which was one of my favourite films when I was a bit younger. I was trying to work out where you got the extra footage of Gellert and Albus from... then I realised you must have chosen a different movie with two boys in it. Then I realised with a jolt that I recognised the footage. It's from an old American film I watched last year - purely by chance - on TV. It was a really sad story about a boy who is sexually abused by his (step?) father. He moves to a new school and ends up involved in a relationship with another boy. At the end the abused boy is raped and killed by some other boys from his school. That was a sad movie... I have no idea what it's called, but it stayed with me because the scenes with the predatory stepfather in it were really scary. What are the chances you would pick a song I like and footage from an obscure film I only saw once... it must be destiny. :P I like the scene at the very end with Old Dumbledore standing forlornly by the window, and the overall melancholy texture. Nice vid.<p> 


	19. Some Principles of Population

"_A man who is born into a world already possessed, if he cannot get subsistence from his parents on whom he has a just demand, and if the society do not want his labour, has no claim of right to the smallest portion of food, and, in fact, has no business to be where he is. At nature's mighty feast there is no vacant cover for him. She tells him to be gone, and will quickly execute her own orders, if he does not work upon the compassion of some of her guests. If these guests get up and make room for him, other intruders immediately appear demanding the same favour. The report of a provision for all that come, fills the hall with numerous claimants. The order and harmony of the feast is disturbed, the plenty that before reigned is changed into scarcity; and the happiness of the guests is destroyed by the spectacle of misery and dependence in every part of the hall, and by the clamorous importunity of those, who are justly enraged at not finding the provision which they had been taught to expect. The guests learn too late their error, in counter-acting those strict orders to all intruders, issued by the great mistress of the feast, who, wishing that all guests should have plenty, and knowing she could not provide for unlimited numbers, humanely refused to admit fresh comers when her table was already full._"

— Malthus T.R. 1798. _An essay on the principle of population_. This controversial passage only appears in the second edition. Later editions omit it completely.

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><p>They removed their shoes and sat on the edge of the riverbank, allowing their feet to slide into the cool water as they ate. Albus pointed out the silvery trout that drifted under the river's surface like submarine ghosts. Occasionally the trout would nibble at their toes, causing a gentle tickling sensation. Gellert flicked breadcrumbs into the river, and each time the trout would go into a brief frenzy, competing for the food, breaking the river's surface into a mess of expanding ripples.<p>

Albus took a bite of his sandwich and paused, allowing the flavours to fill his mouth. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, not the fear or anxiety he was used to, but something strange: a kind of light, sweet happy feeling that made him want to burst out laughing. It took him a while to understand: it was a kind of happiness.

"I'm glad I met you," he said quietly, in the river's direction. He was too embarrassed to look at Gellert.

Gellert grunted in response.

"These sandwiches are good," Gellert said matter-of-factly.

Albus nodded. Everything was good. The world was good, now that Gellert was beside him.

"Should you be drinking that much wine?" he asked.

"You are not my nanny, are you?"

"No, gods forbid. I'd hate to think what your nanny would've had to put up with."

Gellert chuckled.

"You need not worry about that. My family was too poor to have a nanny. My own mother had to put up with me."

Albus was silent. This was the first he'd heard of Gellert's family being poor. He wasn't sure what to say. Somehow he knew that Gellert would react poorly to pity.

"It's sad," Gellert said thoughtfully, after a moment of silence. "My mother came from a line of pure German blood, going back to the Germanic chieftains. But so many German people today are poor. Our country is rich in natural resources, and we were once the jewel in Europe's crown. But now our wealth is being taken over by foreigners who come into our country. They set up their businesses and take advantage of our kind nature to spread like weeds. The Jew, the Turk, the Gypsy, and so on."

"Don't say that, Gellert," Albus said. "Why blame others for your problems? If Germany is suffering from poverty, perhaps the fault lies with the German people. It is too easy to shift the blame. This world is big enough and rich enough for us all to live in peace, if we only act with wisdom."

Gellert leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out in the water. The trout darted away from his calves in alarm before slowly returning and resuming their sleepy drifting.

"I see you belong to the same blindly idealistic school of thought as my great-aunt. It is sad when intelligent people allow their reason to be clouded by some pacifistic ideology. There are laws in Nature that cannot be resisted."

"Which laws are you referring to?" Albus said nervously. He thought he had an inkling of what Gellert was talking about.

Gellert fixed him with a direct look.

"You are English. Surely you are familiar with the Theory of Evolution."

"Of course."

"Good. Now, this theory has been well established in England due to your Muggle naturalists Mr Darwin and Huxley. It is also widely accepted in Germany due to our Muggle naturalist Mr Ernst Haeckel. Of course, this theory was not entirely new. Being Muggles, the naturalists were not capable of affording any truly new insights into the functioning of the universe. But by drawing upon older wizarding sources they established a Theory which explains the function of the biological world. Have you read Malthus?" This last question was accompanied by another piercing glance.

"Yes," said Albus faintly. He felt himself beginning to be caught up in Gellert's spell again, and he tried to resist, to keep a clear head. Gellert was obviously passionate about this subject, because he was beginning to radiate that intensity of speech and gesture that was so powerfully persuasive. "And I'm pleasantly surprised to learn that you've read Malthus, as well as Haeckel and Huxley and Darwin. I love Haeckel's artistic renditions of the various classes of organism, especially in his treatise _Kunstformen der Natur, _a copy of which I keep in my bookshelf. His sketches are truly beautiful. They are works of art quite apart from their value to natural philosophy. But these are all Muggle writers, Gellert. I'm so pleased that you recognise the importance of their scholarship. So many wizards, even the most learned researchers, completely ignore the contributions that Muggles have made to our understanding. Simply because Muggles know nothing about magic does not mean they are ignorant of other things." Despite himself, Albus was getting caught up in the conversation now. Without being aware of it, he had twisted to face Gellert and was speaking very earnestly, accompanied by emphatic gestures and an imploring expression, his eyes focused on Gellert's. "In fact, as I argued in an article for the _Daily Prophet _entitled_ What We Can Learn From Muggles, _I believe that Muggle knowledge _exceeds_ ours in many important areas, as their lack of magic has forced them to compensate by exerting themselves in many other disciplines. Whereas our access to magic has made us intellectually lazy and complacent in many ways, discouraging us from pursuing alternate knowledge. Sadly, that article received very little interest and no one really paid attention except for a few Squibs – I beg your pardon, magically-challenged individuals – who thanked me for bringing attention to the fact that magical knowledge is not the only worthwhile kind." Albus sighed in remembered disappointment.

"Oh," said Gellert, waving a hand dismissively, "of course they were Muggles, but most of their ideas came originally from wizards. They merely were rewriting and interpreting them again."

Albus frowned.

"That's not true, Gellert. Won't you give them credit for their life's work, even now when you admit how important their work is?"

"Well, they were quite good, for Muggles," Gellert said grudgingly, "but let us not get stuck with that now. I asked had you read Malthus. If you had read his _Essay on the Principle of Population_, then surely you must know his observation that the population of mankind increases geometrically, whereas the Nature's capacity to provide resources increases only arithmetically, so that if mankind's population were allowed to grow unchecked, it would lead to the complete destruction of society."

"Yes…"

"Fortunately there are checks and balances on the human population in the form of death, disease, famine, plague, war and so on."

"Fortunately!" Albus burst out. "What a thing to say!"

"Yes, fortunately. For were it not so – were it not that the human population was limited – then all resources would have been destroyed long before now, and there would be no society, no wealth, no education, no culture. We would be reduced to mere beasts fighting for the scraps of remaining resources."

Albus could not argue with the logic of that.

"True. Yet all the same, it seems wrong to say 'fortunately'… ""

"So it follows that all living creatures are competing for limited resources. Now, also consider that all organisms have certain characteristics, both physical and mental. And within each population there is variation of these characters. Some are tall, others short, some fair, others dark, some quick witted, others dull, some magical, some Muggle. These characters are inherited, or to be passed on to one's offspring.

"Also, it can be seen that some of these characteristics make organisms better for survival than others. So over time, the organisms with the superior characteristics become more prevalent in the population, while the weak and unfit are eliminated. Are you following me thus far?"

"Yes, I suppose so. But what does this have to do with Germany?"

"It has _everything _to do with Germany. You see," Gellert said, his eyes shining, "the German people have made two great mistakes that have caused our society to suffer. Firstly, they subscribe to the false belief of utopia. That is, they believe that society will always improve if we leave things as they are and hope for the best. This belief is shared by yourself and my great-aunt. Because of new technology and new developments, if we just educate the population and act with wisdom, in your words, everyone in society can live a happy and healthy life.

"Malthus shows us that is a lie. There are only limited resources. So when conditions are good and people live in wealth, the population will slowly increase to the point that there are not enough resources for everyone. The strain on resources will then stretch them thin and condemn everyone to poverty.

"Secondly, all the human race are not equal. We are all in competition for these fixed resources. Some races of human are better suited than others to survive in this struggle. The Germanic or Nordic race, which evolved in Northern, Western and Central Europe, is gifted with superior intellect, morals, beauty, perfection and physical power. By the laws of Nature, the Germanic race should triumph and spread throughout the world, while weaker races are eliminated.

"If left to her own devices, Nature would ensure the Germanic race will survive. But something bad is happening in our society. We have begun working against Nature. The upper classes of the Germanic race is having fewer children. Also we support the poor, the retarded, the mentally ill and the disabled by paying our taxes to support them, instead of spending that money on fit and healthy people who deserve it. When a sick and deformed child is born, we spend thousands of deutchmarks prolonging its painful, miserable existence. Think of how that time and money could be better used. And even more terrible, we allow the lower races like the cunning and crafty Semite with his hooked nose, the brutish Negro with his black skin, and the sly Mongol with his slitted eyes to invade our society. Instead of defending our borders, the pure homeland of the Germanic race, we allow these invaders to come in without a fight! And some traitorous Germans," Gellert's face twisted as he spat the words, "even marry the lower races! They mix their pure German blood with ugly and animal-like untermenschen, creating monstrous mongrel children that are offensive and against Nature.

"So you see, our society is becoming degenerate and near to collapse. The rich pay to support the masses of poor children, cripples and freaks, not realising that they are only paying the poor and unfit to make even more children. The Germanic race is determined to commit suicide and allow the lower races to take over. Everything is being ruined."

There was silence as Gellert finished.

"Well?" he asked Albus.

Albus shook his head slowly.

"I don't know where to begin," he said. "What a sad, cruel and dark way to view the world. Do you really see all humankind as fighting each other, having to wipe each other out to survive?"

"There is no point saying it is cruel or whatever. That is an appeal to emotion. It does not refute anything I have said. It may be cruel, but that does not mean it is false. In fact, I do not believe it is cruel. My way is kinder than yours. Do you know how much pain a mentally disabled child is in? Do you know how wretched and miserable the existence of the poor and lower classes are? Life will not get better for them, it will only get worse. It were better they were never born at all. We are doing them a kindness by putting them out of their misery."

"If a person is miserable, surely the thing to do is to improve their life, not kill them!"

"Why are you shouting? There is no need to become hysterical. You don't like it when I talk about this, do you? But it is precisely people like you and my great-aunt who need to hear this, because you are allowing our society to become degenerate with your irrational well-meaning ideology. I thought you were intelligent enough to think about complex issues without resorting to shouting or irrationality."

"But what you're saying is quite unspeakable. You're saying we should – please tell me I misunderstood – you're saying the solution for a stable society is to control population by killing all those who are "unfit"; that is, the poor, sick, disabled and racial minorities."

"Not necessarily killing them. It depends on the severity of the overpopulation crisis. In some cases mere sterilisation would be sufficient to prevent them from reproducing and passing on their inferior characteristics."

Albus felt cold, and sick to his stomach. Slowly he rose to his feet.

"Excuse me, Gellert," he said. "I would like to go home now."

Gellert stared at him for a few moments. Was there a disappointed look in his eyes? Albus didn't know, nor did he much care at that moment.

Gellert shrugged.

"Fine then," he said. "Go. I will pack up the things. I will see you later."

Albus turned and walked away, his stomach churning.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong>

Hi everyone. I have quite a serious announcement to make. I just learnt that my mother has very serious breast cancer. It's a very hard time for our whole family.

I'm not going to stop writing the story. I want my life to remain as normal as possible, which means I'm still going to uni, studying and writing when I have time. But I have some hard times coming up, so please be extra understanding when I can't update. You've all been very supportive so far, so thanks again.

Very late replies (sorry)

MikkaAmaya: I haven't read the Hunger Games yet. I've heard good things about it, and the movie is out now, so I'm hoping to read it some time soon.

The Erumpent Horn: Thanks for the kind review. I will take you up on your offer if I need it. Sometimes I find it easier talking to strangers on the internet because anonymity makes it easier to share and open up. In person I'm more private and reserved. And talking about depression and articulating things is definitely very helpful in my experience.

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><p>Next Update: Aiming for Wednesday 11 April.<p> 


	20. Supper with the Dumbledores

Albus returned home feeling rather despondent. Aberforth and Ariana were gone, so he decided to take his mind off things by giving the house a good clean. He went from room to room tidying, scrubbing, polishing and dusting with flicks of his wand. As he worked, he couldn't help but mull over his relationship with Gellert. How was it that someone so beautiful, passionate and clever could be so cold and unfeeling? Part of him wanted to be with Gellert forever, but another part of him wanted to run far away and never see him again.

After tidying up and preparing some supper, he went to his room intending to continue writing his articles. He paused at the door for a moment and stared at the quill and parchment where they lay abandoned on his desk, exactly as he had left them that morning, before Gellert had taken him to the dark forest where he had seen Elke and the Inferi. It seemed like so long ago, though it was just a few hours.

He finished writing his draft on magical fields and worked on a few other pieces, which took him a couple of hours and left his mind feeling calmer and clearer.

Then a letter arrived.

It was delivered by a handsome brown-and-white screech owl, which Albus recognised as Bathilda Bagshot's. He took the envelope from its leg, slit it open and carefully unfolded it.

The writing was quite elegant and cursive, though somewhat rushed, as though written with impatience and great energy. The lettering was large and bold with a stocky, deliberate look characteristic of someone not familiar with English script. The style looked somewhat German or Gothic.

_Dear Albus, _

_(I presume it is appropriate to call you by your first name by now.)_

_I will be occupied during the next few days travelling with my great-aunt. I may not have the opportunity to meet with you. As I am enjoying greatly your company I would wish for us to remain in contact via the medium of Letters. _

_During our last meeting you seemed upset by my words (an occurrence I am swiftly being accustomed to). I wish not for there to be any ill will between us. _

_I do not say things to offend you or to be merely controversial. Rather, I am passionate about the World and endeavouring to improve the Human Condition. As research wizards we must understand that we cannot base our views on mere Emotion. We must make empirical observations and apply the faculty of Reason._

_It seems you are offended by my suggestion of sterilization of degenerates who are unfit to reproduce. On the face of it I admit it seems a harsh measure. However, no one who has objectively considered the facts and the alternative situations can doubt that it is the most humane method._

_I am not dogmatic, rather I am open to considering other views. Heretofore I have not heard any strong arguments to refute my positions. However, I have great respect for your skills as a wizard and the qualities of your character, therefore I will take your views very seriously. I am willing to hear the best arguments you can produce. _

_You must know that the respect I have for you will not prevent me from subjecting the positions you articulate to the strictest criticism. It is only by application of strict criticism and vigorous Argument that we may expose false notions and reveal something approximating to the Truth. I know that as a logically-minded person you will not have it any other way._

_I am hoping you do not find my company unpalatable, nor regret our acquaintance. I find our time together diverting, pleasant and educational. It is my dear wish that you would feel the same._

_I remain faithfully yours,_

_G. Grindelwald_

_P.S. I thanked the house-elf for preparing our picnic. I do not think she appreciated it, but then, I did not do it for her._

Albus brought the letter to his face and breathed in its parchment-and-ink smell. There was nothing remarkable about it. What had he been expecting? Some trace of its author?

For Gellert's warm hands had touched this parchment and guided the quill across it. Gellert had sat at a writing desk and drawn this scroll towards him, dragging it across the polished wooden surface. Gellert had pondered, perhaps occasionally putting the quill's tip into his mouth (his soft warm mouth) before he wrote, his hard eyes gazing into space with that dreamy look they sometimes wore. Albus could see the image so clearly in his mind.

Slowly, he reread the letter a couple of times, savouring each word. Each time he reached the postscript, a half smile touched his lips, followed by a gentle shake of his head. He carefully rolled the parchment up, placed it in a box and locked it away in a drawer in his bureau. Then he composed a reply.

_Dear Gellert,_

_Thank you for your letter._

_I certainly believe we may call one another by our first names. I may be ignorant of the finer points of Etiquette, but I suppose that when two people's lips have touched, they are entitled to take the great liberty of addressing one another in a familiar fashion._

_Yes, I must confess that I was slightly vexed upon hearing the comments that you made about Population. In retrospect, however, I see that you were not intending to be abrasive, but rather were expressing an opinion (to which we are all surely entitled) and I was perhaps overhasty in my departure. Nevertheless, I am certain (or rather I hope and pray) that our friendship is strong enough to survive whatever obstacles may be strewn in its path._

_Regarding Population, I concede that the Earth cannot support an infinite number of men and therefore there must be some limiting force on population growth. Where I disagree with you, however, is in the solution to this dilemma. You would impose sterilisation on unwilling people whom you deem to be inferior in some respect. Surely you can see this would raise a number of problems._

_What criteria will be used to determine who is fit to reproduce and who is not? Who will make this decision? Will it be forced on people against their will, in a gross violation of their bodily integrity?_

_I do not believe that this solution of yours is tenable. If we must limit population growth, let us do it through alternative methods such as education, voluntary contraception, abstinence and so on. I believe that these are the only humane options, _contra _your statement in your previous letter._

_Most faithfully yours,_

_Albus_

* * *

><p>At suppertime the dining room looked very cosy by the soft glow of fresh candles. The smell of hot food wafted through the air as the clock on the rose-papered wall ticked contentedly, its pendulum swinging lazily from side to side.<p>

Albus was guiding the stew pot onto the table with his wand when Aberforth came stomping in wearing a rough cloak and heavy boots, his hair dishevelled.

"What're you doing?" Aberforth said, stopping short as he caught sight of Albus.

"Very nice, thank you for asking," Albus replied as he summoned three dishes and three glasses from the kitchen. "And how was your day? To answer your question, I'm setting the table. Take your boots off, Abe, you're tramping mud all over the place. And if you wouldn't mind, would you be so good as to call Ariana?" He smiled at Aberforth, who didn't smile back.

Silently, a slip of pale blue appeared in the doorway. Ariana had obviously been outdoors, though unlike Aberforth she possessed the gift of becoming disarranged without looking scruffy. Her fingers twisted and bunched in the folds of her periwinkle dress as she stared at the ground. There were wildflowers in her long, tangled blonde hair. Albus had to laugh at the sight of her.

"Look at you!" he said. "You look like a fairy or a spirit right out of the wood!"

Ariana shot Albus a worried look, then glanced at Aberforth. Without making a sound she sidled along the wall, moving a few paces towards the table, where she stopped and waited, looking like a piece of living wallpaper ready to flee at a moment's notice.

"Well, my dear," Albus said, giving her a warm smile too. "Why don't you have a seat?"

Ariana crept away from the wall and settled on a chair, looking nervous.

"Why is she so timid all the time?" Albus wondered aloud.

"She's been through a lot!" Aberforth snapped.

Albus was taken aback.

"I know that," he said gently, "but she should know I'm not going to hurt her. We're at home, among family. She should feel safe."

Aberforth snorted derisively.

"Look," Albus said to him, "are you going to remove your boots or not? If not, just sit down before the stew gets cold."

Aberforth seated himself beside Ariana. He yanked his boots off one by one and hurled them behind him, where they struck the far wall and fell to the wooden floor.

Albus winced at the impact but decided to say nothing as Aberforth was already in a difficult mood.

"I thought you'd be with that Grindelwald boy," Aberforth said as Albus served the stew, ladling the rich brown liquid into their bowls where it gave off curling tendrils of white steam. At the mention of the name Grindelwald, Ariana stiffened and a kind of tension seemed to hang in the air with the plumes of steam.

"I was," said Albus evenly. "We had lunch together."

"He _saw _Ariana."

A stricken look crossed Albus' face.

"Well," he said, "Bathilda already knew about her, so he was bound to find out eventually. We'll just have to be more careful in the future."

"He frightened her."

"Did he?" Albus bit his lip and glanced at Ariana, who was staring into her soup bowl as though reading something fascinating in its swirling currents. "Oh, dear. He can be a bit intense at times. Mind you, Ariana's… well… she's even frightened of me, so it's not surprising that a stranger… "

"You're saying it's _her _fault?" Aberforth demanded.

"No!" Albus looked at his brother with a frown. "Abe, why are you so determined to be angry with me?"

Aberforth lowered his head to his stew, grunted and mumbled unintelligibly under his breath.

There was a minute of silence as they got on with the meal. Aberforth slurped his soup loudly and splashed chunks of bread in it. Albus wrinkled his brow but said nothing. He partook of his meal more civilly. As for Ariana, she ate like a wild bird, taking a small bite here and a nibble there before staring around as though looking out for danger. She kept shooting glances at Albus, but he was used to her strange behaviour and paid little attention.

Suddenly, Ariana inhaled deeply and seemed to expand.

"Albus…" she said rather breathlessly. "This stew… is... quite tasty!" Then she seemed to deflate and sink back into her seat with the air of someone relieved at having completed an incredibly difficult task.

Albus stared at Ariana with frank astonishment. He couldn't remember the last time she'd spoken more than one word to him at a time, in reply to his dutiful queries about her health. For her to take the initiative and speak without being spoken to…

"Thank you so much, Ari," he said, beaming, once he'd gotten over the shock. "Please have some more. And can I offer you some bread?"

Ariana nodded vigorously. Her eyes were bright, as though she found this new business of talking to Albus both exciting and taxing.

Albus broke off a hunk of bread and trimmed away the golden-brown crust that Ariana disliked before handing her the soft, steaming white insides. She smiled at him as she accepted it.

"I don't like that Grindelwald," Aberforth said suddenly and gruffly, shattering the peaceful atmosphere. "He's bad news." Once again, the mere mention of Gellert's name cast a pall over their supper. Ariana's face darkened and Albus felt inexplicably tense.

"Thank you for sharing," Albus replied. "However, as you have only met him once and are not well acquainted with him, I hardly think your opinion of him bears any weight. It is rude and unwise to judge people prematurely. Besides, I don't think any of us want to talk about him at the moment, apart from you."

Aberforth refused to let up.

"I don't have to be best friends with him to know he's bad news. Bathilda told me he went to _Durmstrang. _Durmstrang! That alone should be enough to ring warning bells for anyone in their right mind. I don't know why the brilliant Albus Dumbledore can't see it. Maybe you were taken in by his pretty little smile? And what's more, he was _expelled_. What on Earth do you have to do to be expelled from Durmstrang, I don't know – kill a teacher? And this is the kind of person you want in our house, with Ariana?"

In her lap, Ariana's hands twisted and clenched in the folds of her dress, but neither of her brothers noticed.

"For your information," said Albus tersely, "he was top of every class in Durmstrang Institute. He is a brilliant student: intelligent, disciplined, hard-working, original and ambitious. He has excellent manners and is a much better role model for Ariana than some people I might mention, who prefer to spend their school terms cutting classes and smoking illicit herbs in the Forbidden Forest. What would it take to get you to like him? A lack of ambition and an unhealthy interest in goats? Perhaps if you'd spent less time judging other people and more time on your studies… I noticed in your last report you barely scraped three As and managed to fail Potions…"

"Shut up! You are not Mum or Dad."

"And I thank the gods for that every day. I don't know what I'd do if a child of mine turned out like you. Unfortunately, Mother and Father are not around any more and so the burden of caring for you falls to me. I assure you I take no great pleasure in it."

"You're always trying to control me. You were always pretending to be Dad after he left!"

"I took the responsibility. I am the eldest child in this family and I did what I had to do. I understand the concept of taking responsibility is one that you struggle with…"

"Stop!" said Ariana, covering her ears with her hands. "Please stop."

There was a ringing silence, deafening after the exchange of raised voices. Regaining his composure, Albus felt ashamed that he'd let things get out of hand.

Slowly the three of them resumed their meal.

Ariana drew a deep breath and sighed.

"I wish I could go to school," she said. "I've heard so much about Hogwarts. How you two have so much fun there. I wonder what it would be like to see other people, to make friends, to try new things."

"It's too dangerous," Aberforth said.

"I know. Just a dream." She looked so forlorn and world-weary that Albus felt deeply sorry for her. Someone as young as her shouldn't be so dispirited.

"Now hold on a minute," Albus said thoughtfully. "If Ariana wants to go that badly, there might be a way. There are many students at Hogwarts with special needs."

Aberforth looked at Albus like he was mad.

"It's _too dangerous_," he insisted. "We can't let anyone else see her. They'll shut her up in Saint Mungo's."

"Not if I vouch for her. I'm a legal adult now and I have friends in important places."

"You _are _mad, aren't you? She wouldn't just be in danger herself. She's a danger to other people."

"No, she's not. Not if she's kept in the right environment. Perhaps it would be dangerous to overstimulate her, but I think everyone has a right to an education. It's a shame for her to miss out simply because she's had some ill luck. We could arrange some kind of lesson-by-mail system… perhaps if I speak to the Headmaster and some of the teachers, we could sort something out…"

Aberforth was glaring, but Ariana was staring at Albus with wide and shining eyes.

Albus smiled at her.

"It might be a little difficult for you to make friends in person. But that's no reason for you not to have any. Why, we could easily find you some friends to correspond with via letters."

"No." Aberforth slammed his fist down on the table, making the cutlery rattle. "It's too dangerous."

"I'm not sure that's for you to decide," Albus said. "I am the legal adult here."

"Well, isn't that dandy. Looks like you've taken charge of all our lives. Lucky for you that Mother's out of the way. Now you can make the decisions for all of us that we're too stupid to make for ourselves. Just let the great Albus Dumbledore fix everything."

"If you _ever _say anything like that again," said Albus intently, "I will curse you from here to next Tuesday."

Colour rose in Aberforth's cheeks.

Albus went on, "You know, Aberforth, this could be the best thing that's ever happened to Ariana. I've long suspected that you've done her more harm than good by smothering her as you do. Keeping her by your side and treating her like a fragile invalid will only prevent her from recovering. You talk a great deal about protecting Ariana and keeping her safe, but I suspect it has more to do with you than with her."

"And what does that mean?" Aberforth growled.

"I mean, let's face the facts, Abe. You are something of a ne'er-do-well. You are a failure at school and your rough, rude, unpolished ways make you few friends. The only person you're really close to is Ariana. Isn't the real reason you're afraid of letting her go out and meet new people that she might not be so dependent on you?"

A muscle twitched in Aberforth's jaw.

"She needs me," he spat.

"Not as much as you need her. In fact, I think in a perverse way you're glad she had her accident. Now you can keep her reliant on you for the rest of her life…"

"You bastard!" Aberforth roared. He hurled himself across the table and barrelled into Albus, catching him in the right eye with a punch so hard it snapped Albus' head back and left a ringing sensation in his ears. Aberforth grabbed Albus' neck and squeezed as hard as he could, but by then Albus had found his wand. A flash of brilliant light lit up the room as Aberforth was thrown back over the dining table and into the far wall, which he struck with a hard thump before falling to the ground.

Ariana rose to her feet, screamed at the top of her lungs and ran out of the room.

"Ari!" Aberforth raised his head from the floor. "No… don't listen to him." Slowly, Aberforth dragged himself to his feet. He glared daggers at Albus, who stood on the other side of the table with his wand drawn, breathing heavily.

"If Ari hates me now, I'll kill you," Aberforth rasped. "You already made Mum and Dad hate me and love you instead. And everyone at school. Ari's the only one I have. If you take her away from me…" Aberforth shook his head and walked stiffly from the room.

When he was gone, Albus slowly sank to the floor in a crouch. His eye felt swollen and raw and the ringing in his ears was intensifying.

_Albus?_

Albus glanced up. For a moment, he'd thought his mother's voice was calling to him. But there was no one there.

Mother and Father were gone. Ariana and Aberforth were gone.

Albus was all alone. He didn't understand how this had happened. It wasn't how things were supposed to happen.

He wished Gellert were here. He would know what to do.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

I'd like to thank everyone for their kind wishes. I'll add replies here when I have more time.

KnightKat: Thank you. I'm just taking things one day at a time.

I'm writing the story straight from my imagination without doing much editing, so it's not as polished as I'd like, but I think a raw rough draft has a certain charm.

Em: Thanks, my mother has a tough road ahead of her, but the diagnosis is more positive than it was before, so I'm sure we'll manage somehow.

MysticEyeGirl: Thanks for the recommendation. I appreciate the thought but we don't live in the US. Luckily we live in Australia so we have the best treatments available... the rest is a matter of chance.

Re:the hunger games. Ooh, that was harsh. I try not to be too judgemental about authors. I feel that I can learn from a book even if it's not perfectly written. It's not often that a book irritates me so much that I can't finish it. I did enjoy the movie. I'll see if I can get the book from the library or something.

I picked up the first Twilight book and tried reading it but it just didn't hold my interest. I felt too old for that kind of high school romantic fantasy. But if I'd read it at the age of 14 or something I probably would have been hooked.

Next Update: Aiming for Monday April 30.

* * *

><p>I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'll have to delay the update for a few days or maybe a whole week. I've haven't had time to write anything but a few hundred words. Our house was renovated this week so I was sleeping in the garage for two days... and I have so many assessments coming up. I'm struggling with uni at the moment and I'm having family problems. I'll update when I can. Apologies.<p> 


	21. A Reply

_Dear Albus,_

_So I have now permission to call you as Albus, because our lips have touched? I wonder what must I do to receive permission to call you by a nickname? Perhaps the next time I see you I will find out… Alby._

_Certainly our friendship is strong enough to survive whatever comes. We are both strong people._

_You ask, what criteria will be applied to determine which people are fit to reproduce, and who will make this decision? You are under the impression that this poses a difficult problem, yet this question is the most easily answered of all._

_Let me ask you, Albus, what qualities you will find attractive in a person? No doubt you would mention physical qualities such as a regular and symmetrical face with sensitive features and a healthy, strong, well-developed body free of defects, disease or signs of malnutrition. You would also consider mental qualities such as intelligence, quick wit, memory, self-restraint, virtue, moral character and so on. In fact, most members of the population would agree with you on these points._

_Assessment of who is fit to reproduce is occurring around us constantly. Whenever a man considers his future bride, or a woman considers her future husband, weighing up the different calculations, they are applying the criteria of which I speak. No one wants their children to be a cripple, an imbecile or some other deformed individual. _

_This instinct for selecting good mates was instilled by Nature for the preservation and improvement of the human race. Artificial culture interferes with our natural instinct, for example by teaching us to feel sorry for inferior individuals, under the name of kindness or sympathy. We must realize that by giving inferior individuals more than they deserve, we are being the opposite of kind, because we are prolonging their misery and ultimately leading to the degradation of the race. In the process we will make everyone miserable and wretched as the lowest members of society. Is this kindness? Surely it is better for the superior few to prosper than for all to be dragged to the lowest level of existence in the name of "fairness"?_

_So now we have established that criteria exist for selecting good individuals for reproduction. The next problem you raise is enforcement. You say it would be a "gross violation of bodily integrity" for the state to interfere with the right to reproduce. However, the state violates bodily integrity of individuals all the time in order to protect society. We put people in prison, which violates their right to freedom of movement, freedom of expression and freedom of association. This is justified because it is necessary to protect society from undesirable people._

_Now consider this._ _If a man is a thief, a murderer or a rapist, he can only harm a small number of people. If a man is a spy or a traitor to the state, he can harm an entire country. However, if a man is an inferior individual with defective breeding, by reproducing he is actually harming the entire future generations of the human race! Thus he is causing a far greater amount of harm. If the state is justified in imprisoning a murderer or traitor, how much more justified is it to prevent a degenerate individual from reproducing and jeopardising our whole future?_

_So you see Albus, for the state to intervene in this way is not a violation of integrity, no more than other necessary evils such as imprisonment and execution. _

_Have I answered your concerns to your satisfaction?_

_Faithfully,_

_Gellert_

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><p><strong>AN:**_  
><em>

Sorry for the very short chapter. I've entered the last month of my semester so I'm going to be very busy for a while. Next update will probably be in two weeks.


	22. Gellert's Return

Albus pushed open the black, wrought iron gate of the cemetery. It groaned as it swung inward, leaving specks of rust on his fingers. The graveyard was empty but for a tall, familiar figure standing amidst the tombstones. Albus passed uneasily under the marble gaze of the grimhounds and proceeded in Gellert's direction. His steps were loud on the hard soil, but Gellert did not look up, not even as Albus drew close to him.

"Peverell," Gellert muttered. He looked up and seemed to notice Albus at last. "Good morning."

"I received your note," Albus said. "Some might call this an odd place to meet. A cemetery."

"They do not understand." Gellert knelt and stared intently at a gravestone. "What better place than this? Death is the beginning of all our journeys. And the end."

"You're not going to start with that death business again, are you? I thought a few days in polite society would have cured you of your morbid obsessions."

"My great-aunt has been trying to 'cure' me for a long time. I already told you, nothing has worked. Besides, genius is not a disease." Gellert reached out and touched the headstone, tracing the symbol etched into it. It was the eye.

"Ignotus Peverell," read Albus.

"Well named. His name means 'unknown'. And his family well kept their secrets."

"This is about the Hallows. So you were serious when you said you were after them."

"Always I am serious."

Albus folded his arms, his eyes sliding to the marble slab on which Gellert had kissed him all those days ago. He wondered if Gellert remembered.

"Could we go somewhere else?" he asked. "It's a nice, warm day. I don't like it here."

"In one moment." Gellert's fingers up and down the tombstone, probing gently, as though he were feeling the forehead of a sick child. It seemed to Albus that Gellert was skilled in the Old Magic.

"Are you looking for a magical trace? Ignotus Peverell died centuries ago. There's not likely to be anything left."

"Ja. You are right." Gellert sighed heavily and stood for a moment, his head bowed. Then he smiled. "It is better this way. Finding the Hallows must not be easy. Only the worthy should be able to find them." He glanced at Albus, and his eyes seemed shadowed. "Do you feel this? It is almost a holy place."

"Well, this is the church graveyard…"

Gellert shook his head impatiently.

"Not the church. This grave. This is one of the men who came closest to conquering Death." Gellert inhaled deeply, as if seeking to breathe some inspiration from Ignotus' presence. Again that odd smile flickered on his face. "It will be mine," he said with quiet certainty.

"What?"

"The Cloak. The Stone. The Wand. All three of them."

"Provided they exist."

"They exist. Come." Gellert grabbed Albus' hand and tugged him along.

"Where to now?"

"Wherever you wish. You said you do not like it here."

Having not seen Gellert for several days, Albus felt rather absurdly shy around him. He trailed behind Gellert, looking at his hand, then at him, until Gellert chastised him for walking so slowly.

"Did you enjoy socialising with your great-aunt?" Albus asked, as they left the graveyard and headed down the main street. It was still quite chilly, being barely past seven o' clock, but the morning sun was deliciously warm. There were few others about.

"It was not too bad. Actually, it was a bit boring meeting all these people. But it was a good opportunity also for making political connections. Last night we visited some Mr and Mrs Rosier, and there were much ministers and politicians at their house." Gellert smirked. "Also their daughter was quite pretty, although she talked too much. I had some fun with her."

Albus felt as though Gellert had punched him in the gut.

"Why did you tell me that?"

"You asked if I enjoyed myself."

_Gellert thinks it's fun to hurt my feelings, _thought Albus. _Everything is a game to him._

As they walked past the post office, Albus noticed Sharon Bannister arranging some stock outside the front window. Before he could say good morning, she looked at Gellert and a tortured expression creased her face, her whole body going rigid. She darted inside and slammed the door behind her.

"What was that about?" Albus asked.

"Mmm?" Gellert hadn't seen her.

Albus frowned. A suspicion was blooming in his chest; a suspicion that Gellert had "had fun" with Sharon, too. And how many others? Who knew?

They reached the outskirts of the village and turned into another field, as they had on that fateful day… that day when Gellert had lain on top of Albus and kissed him.

"I am starting to understand you now," Gellert said all of a sudden.

"Really? How so?"

"Your sister is deranged, isn't she?"

Albus stiffened.

"That is why you are so concerned about people with inferior abilities."

"Well, perhaps…"

"And you lied to me about your grandmother."

"I beg your pardon?"

"You told me you know so much quotes from the Christian Bible because your grandmother was a Christian. But in fact, it was your mother."

Albus stared at Gellert.

"How do you know that?"

"I only suspected first. And then I saw her gravestone in the cemetery. No Magians will put a cross on their gravestone."

Albus looked at the ground.

"Now," Gellert said, "I know why you are so sympathetic to the minorities. Because your family..."

"I suppose you hate me now."

"No. We cannot help what our parents are. That does not affect you. My own father… I am nothing like him." Gellert shook his head, as if dislodging an unpleasant thought. "But now you must understand that your judgement is being impaired by your closeness to your family. Your heart is ruling your head. Emotion is interfering with reason."

"Do you think my sister deserves to die?" Albus said. "I could never support someone who believed that."

"Of course not," Gellert said.

"But you said you wanted to eliminate inferior individals…"

"Only in the extreme cases. Your sister is no harm to anyone."

_She killed Mother._

Albus slumped to the grass and buried his face in his hands. Gellert knelt beside him.

"Do you want your family back? Your mother and father?"

"No spell can wake the dead."

"We can do it together," Gellert whispered. "Help me find the Hallows." He reached out and smoothed back Albus' hair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** My last exam is on 27 June. Next update planned for July 1.

* * *

><p><strong>Note: <strong>Hi peeps. I'm afraid I have some bad news. I'm going to have to put this story on hiatus for a while. I know this will be a disappointment to many of you, but I'm just not enjoying writing it at the moment. Focussing on the relationship between Albus and Gellert, it's too emotionally intense and claustrophobic. This is a pretty dark story and I'm in a dark place in my life at the moment. Trying to get into a mental space where I can write this story is making me even sadder.

I write fanfiction for fun and to escape from my life. For the past few updates, I've had to keep pushing myself, but the enjoyment hasn't been there... I want to spend some time writing my other, less popular stories, because they involve action and comedy and wide open spaces, which makes me feel like I'm getting away from my problems. I think I put too much of my own depression and feelings of love into Summer of my German Warlock, because I find it difficult to read now - it makes me feel emotionally raw and uncomfortable, like I've exposed too much of myself.

I want to thank everyone who left reviews encouraging me to keep writing and letting me know you enjoyed the story. You have no idea how much they meant to me. They made me feel happy and fulfilled during difficult periods in my own life. It's because of a sense of obligation to you that I won't abandon this story completely. I don't know when I'll feel ready to continue this. It might be months or years.

First I'm going to give myself two months to see how I feel. I will leave another note on September 1 letting you know how I'm going. But I make no promises.

Once again, thank you. And I'm very sorry.

August 12: Sorry, still nothing. Check back on September 1.


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